A new tradition: Western writers retell the Chicken Crossing the Road joke every Sunday here at Creek Running North.
This week: Gary Snyder.
Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?
Why did a big Rhode Island Red
come to wait — all stiff of gait —
on the shoulder of
highway forty-nine?
Her wings for deep fry.
Jed skinned a hen with a dull knife
washed her in Zin; she hangs, smoked, in the pantry.
Log Cabin syrup on your waffles.
I never saw a Red Cap til I found one on the road
bled it with its feet and beak still on;
it soaks in salt and water
cole slaw and pickle;
she will be a lunch for hungry fools.
The dough was apparently shot
lengthwise with flour weevils-
dumplings with tiny wings
bellies full of yeast.
Prey on the pullets. Ask them to feed us:
our Araucana’s tales
of roads to bravely cross that killed them:
one side of fries
To get to the other side.
Posted by: Chris Clarke
Categories:
Recommended
Poetry
Satire
Writing
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