The Neapolitan Mastiff: On Butyric Acid

What Hollywood and the Combalou Caves Have In Common

There are mornings

when the sun rises without August’s heat

where thriving rot, left-over bile, rancid malt liquor,

the city’s secretions

smell not of human waste

but rather — a fantastically tangy

Roquefort cheese.

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Filed under Staring Into A Cobalt Pool

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