EPISTLE TO THE OMNIVORES

 

WHAT’S FOR DINNER?

 

...O belly, O stinking bag filed with dung and corruption. At either end of thee, foul is the
sound...

Spawner of Sin

 

Gula, voluminous voluptuary, never gets her fill

Too soon, too delicately, too expensively, too greedily,

 TOO MUCH

Spawner of Pride

Haggler, tippler, intriguer of feast

 

WHAT’S FOR DINNER?

 

Be not among winebibbers: among riotous eaters of flesh. For the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags.

Spawner of Sloth

 

Gula, worn by hungers

Fullness of bread neither sates

nor placates

 

nor abates

Food and drink, with thee she schemes to live

Crapulous and unfulfilled

 

Discharge, phlegm, mucus running from the nose, hiccups, vomiting and violent
belching...The increase in luxury is nothing but the increase in excrement.

 

       Spawner of Greed

 

And like a Crane his necke was long and fine,

 With which he swallowed up excessive feast.

       Spawner of Lust

 

Flesh made safe

 

Death tied to the stake

Gula plays hostess at tables laden to groan

 

 

SO, WHAT’S FOR DINNER?

 

 

GREETINGS!      WELCOME!      TAKE A SEAT!

 

Omnivores

THIS LETTER TO YOU!

 

 

Break bread with malignant maggots    
gnats and flies

 

Beef gleams in the feast’s corpulent dusk

 

trout bathe in béchamel

 

succulent hens bask in béarnaise

 

pots de crème  triple crème   crčme Anglaise

 

legs of lamb adorned with mint rosettes

pork roasts recline on polenta cakes

crustaceans wade in bouillabaisse

 

stuffed tongues  boned hams  breasts of veal

tureens of consommé
bordeaux and beaujolais sausage ropes coiled
like salacious snakes

 

Omnivores

 

THIS FEAST IS YOURS

 

SAY GRACE