I received from a friend
a very manly brick of Limburger cheese.
I say manly because women usually
don't eat cheese that buzzes
and is as old-aged as mine.
This cube of cheese has an odor
Perhaps best described as that which issues
from long-unwashed underwear hems.
To eat it is to be arrested, overcome.
You cannot eat this cheese
and do anything else as a secondary activity;
your full attention is riveted to the consuming act
as though you're on a wing-walking excursion,
or shaving with an extremely sharp straight razor.
I gaze at this cheese contemplating
burying it in the yard
or eating more. I decide to eat more.
There is an edible-if-you-dare rind
around this cheese that sweats
when it is exposed to air. I keep my Limburger
in a tight jar once opened, and
I appreciate that this cheese
continues its critical mass build-up
even when refrigerated and stored thusly;
eating limburger reminds me of
other nasty things I 've done.
Afterwards, no amount
of hand-washing will
from the consequence of my deed,
but I can assume thoughtful poses
with my fingers near my nose
and secretly re-live it all
in blissful reverie.
[David Zep Dix]
The gourds involved came from an earlier day farmers market stand by the Fox.
A then new species; curious forms. Life surrounds, wot?
Raccoon editor teaches students the aspects of flowers.
Pistils, stamens, etc.
Waukesha High School 1952
Checkered life begins
Michael Hedges plays his harp guitar.
Amazing depth of tone variables
from mightily plucked open string base notes
in top sound box
to lightly tapped overtones
in the higher range on the standard frets