C.B. Anderson
was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden.
His poems have appeared in dozens of print and electronic journals over the past five years, most recently Blue Unicorn, Nassau Review, Innisfree, and nthposition.
His e-chapbook, A Walk in the Dark, is published on the website of The New Formalist Press.
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Picky Pig
Unless the fare is poor, I live to eat.
Perhaps I’m less abstemious than most,
But rarely will I count myself replete
Until the food’s all gone. I take my seat
When I am called to dinner by the host,
Unless the fare is poor. I live to eat,
And when I drink I take my whiskey neat,
A pleasant fellow till I’ve overdosed,
For rarely will I count myself replete
Until the bottle’s drained. I’m fond of meat—
A steak, a chop, a burger, or a roast—
But if the fare is poor, I live to eat
Another day. When craving something sweet,
I slather jelly on a piece of toast,
Though rarely will I count myself replete
If all I’ve had is sugared Cream of Wheat.
A glutton I’ve been aptly diagnosed:
Unless the fare is poor, I live to eat,
And rarely do I count myself replete.
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