Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Beauties



The loss of figs is the advent of Fuyu persimmons.  Slice them -- 8 petals to lead you to beauty. Even the word persimmon, is a poem.


Monday, October 16, 2017

Yes, temples dream


a kaleidoscope
roof & sky
a fractal web
and just now
you stepped
into that dream
why are you wearing
shoes?  And what
sweetmeats will you offer?
Which poem recited?


Sunday, October 15, 2017

The temple swallows the mountain


No sleight of hand.  Just a delft touch of the alchemical to create a tasty eye-soup.   Poems are like this -- tasty & colorful and always respectful of sky & mountain.

Some food by its shape


is pure comfort food.  Winter squash for sure.  Rooted and sturdy with insides that surprise & beguile made sweet by roasting.  Which is what certain words dish up, too, as poems.  I'm thinking editing a poem tries to get to the inherent savory and/or sweetness.  A kind of roasting, I'd say.  

Top left:  Blue Ballet Squash -- new to me.  Yummy!




Friday, October 13, 2017

Yes, there are no figs left



and yet the seasonal has a way of addressing absence & its ensuing lament.  Pomegranates.  The word itself is a poem.  Even without the thrill of its 613 seeds, the pomegranate is a joy to behold.  Fecund and juicy.  Fall is spilling.  These beauties picked by Bev from her brother's tree.  Wow!

A spin on the chicken & egg conundrum


we know
where the feather
lands
it calls "nest"
the same can be
said
of spoon & soup
pen & paper.
Meanwhile
the frittata --
stridently yellow --
needs eating


Newest best friends from Tehachapi


Maya
Boomer
Ashmee
Sasha
Gita

a litany of blessings
animals are the perfect poem