Tender Wontons

 

Today I Wikipedia-ed
the life and legacy
of Henry James.
I felt the sweetest bliss.

To think there actually
might have been a man
that ardently in love
with consciousness!

Henry wasn’t wild.
He stammered
when he was a child.

Every night without
(so far) becoming roly-poly
I consume what might
as well be Chinese ravioli:

tender wontons delicately

stuffed with bits
of content like a poem.

Like Henry, someday
I will show ‘em.






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