Ingredients:

1 biography
½ of 1 fifth of whiskey (substitute 750 ml of red wine if preferred or if you work the next day)
1 woman stuck inside your head
2 obscure references
1 baby done me wrong line
1 premature ejaculation joke or 1 self-deprecatory comment on penis size
Enough extract of misogyny to pass for honesty and to insure you go home alone
1 dash of irony and angst (flavor to taste)

Directions:

1. Write a sentence, any sentence, don’t worry, this will be deleted later. Drink half of the first drink. Sit back, ponder the woman you can’t shake, and consider what’s written.
2. Delete everything. Start over.
3. Write a sentence, any sentence, don’t worry, this will be deleted later. Drink the rest of the drink. Sit back, ponder the women you can’t shake, and consider what’s written.
4. Delete! And come up with a title. Consider this a good start!
5. It is best if alcohol is added throughout the writing process, pre-consumption often prevents anything intelligible from being written (though moderation inhibits completion as well). Sprinkle the first stanza with confusion and cleverness, incidental rhyme and deliberate alliteration. Drink as required.
6. Mix in your first obscure reference: Oh, and Charles, I do know what it’s like to slide up next to Betty’s warm ass. References like this, only understood by the poet, and devotees of Bukowski are essential. (Don’t worry, people always pretend they understand, nodding sagely or granting the nervous laugh).
7. Decide if you are going to go with ejaculation joke or penis size comment, having people think you are both sad and small will invoke only cocktail wiener imagery. And “Snocrates, the wise Snausages mascot, knows your dog will absolutely love the big meaty taste and cute sausage shape of Snausages.” The second obscure reference for those keeping track!
8. Honesty is the best ingredient, but few can afford honesty, or do it well, so resort to lighthearted misogyny —if pressed.
9. Mix well, include stark imagery if needed, and call this poetry.

This recipe feeds many, but never the one intended.

Snausages.

christopher… ‘06