No breath wasted,
An empiricist is in his home frying the egg a little harder than normal,
The crackling of the butter to the pan
A stranger’s voice from the other room announces “You make an egg like you fuck. Hard and dry."
I’m a statue outside my own museum’s entrance,
To be shit on by pigeons, and climbed by rambunctious domestic terrorists posing as children
I like when my eyes close free of trouble,
It’s such a rarified air to breathe in,
I went into the living room and there was no woman, no voice, no commitment,
There was just a man and his burnt eggs
standing solemn in his dick-skinners
Ready to clock in and create,
To pose over his work like a proud father
To continually have visions of the dust jacket of the book.
About the Author
Joe Sonnenblick has been featured in such print and online publications as Fleas on The Dog, Impspired, Aji, The Beatnik Cowboy, SCAB Literary Arts Journal, Citizen Brooklyn, The broadkill review, and Spectra Poets for their inaugural issue, In Parentheses. Joe has also been featured in Stella Samuel’s 2021 anthology of American poetry through Arzono Press. Joe has been a featured reader up and down the East Coast, including the Poets House in Tribeca.