previously on ties: Waugh
like bacon as it fries
in a good way
while my penis splits you into a holy star. Dean Young
Seas of bright fat suffuse bacon
“The view is flung out of sight and becomes all sky: a thin bright wash, stripes like fat in bacon”; 500 pp later, “above its stripped twigs the sky holds some diagonal cirrus, bands of fat in bacon, promising rain tomorrow.”
— Updike, in the Rabbit tetralogy
Soft carpets of white unctuous bacon
Dickens (?). Better, apparently:
In this dream
our first picnic sails along
on a blanket just above the flames.
The women wearing gingham frocks
making it seem so very sad, Uncle John
juggling his belly on a tricycle.
The bacon-rind on the sliced bread
a wizened hieroglyph meaning nothing,
the cucumber circles sitting on the sockets
of your mother’s eyes.
“eesh, bangers and mash writ large!”
When the city melts like butter
and the sky sizzles like bacon
we’ll be safe and snug
deep in our bomb shelter.
You’ll read my palm
running your finger along
the long life line.
and cuddle together
like potatoes in their jackets
like sausages in the oven.
And (after my own fattening heart):
The foolish frizzle of bacon
George Meredith, Diana of the Crossways:
(with singing bacon, see also “The butcher / opens his glass door like St. Peter, / as angels heave in flanks of pork / that are strung with ribs like enormous harps.”)