Gallus God Domesticus

Come 5 and half I wonder white or dark, of which I’m fonder Fowl thoughts, they’re spring loaded the dripping habit of a life-long tongue that never cared why your sky was falling why you crossed the road at broiler weight Plucked and bronzed, potatoes on my weight was what I wanted I’m ashamed but to ab-stain? I tried but you roasted, fried, is a siren’s song and I’m forever on the rocks. Continue reading Gallus God Domesticus