Tuesday, March 21, 2017


Spring is short-lived. Consider:  Daphne.  Imagine a Spring wreath of Daphne.  Delicate & aromatic. Now, think of asparagus and peas.  In my book, not much of a leap from vegetables to words.  By the way, which words are among the most fleeting?  Which words are aromatic?

Spring brings forth the hidden

So like this "salad."  What's in it?  Leftovers, of course.  You wish details?  Mahi mahi, beets both red and golden, tomatoes, Opal apples, and the hidden --  string beans.  And to finish the details -- lemon olive oil, balsamic vinegar, black pepper, fresh basil.  And yes, like with the eating of words, bring your own unique appetite.  Is there anything more Spring-like than an appetite for words?

Monday, February 27, 2017

Space is an invitation

for tenacity and greening.  For a void to be made lush.  What better definition of a poem filling a page.  Or asparagus on a white plate.  Tenacious and greening where boundaries are communal space brimming with healthy surprises.

Saturday, February 25, 2017

Breakfast is meant to be left

over.  As in leftovers.  Vibrant leftovers.  And unexpected so the eyes taste color and the mouth sees the poem.  Look, look -- that haiku-like, star-like poem in the center of golden beets, cherry tomatoes, avocado, walnuts.  And what you don't clearly see -- a sea of cooked black rice.  What could be more forbidden?  More delicious?  Well, this morning's sunrise!

this morning the sky
was shouting your name
I have no reason

Friday, February 24, 2017

Don't tell me, you haven't seen an orange with a blue eye?

When does the I see?
What does the I see
when it sees orange slices?
Do any two people see
a bowl of orange
slices the same way?
How do you slice
a sentence?  Or
a question? And why

Read. Resist

and write!
Cook food;
share.  Laugh
often and boldly.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

This rainbow is prism & shadow

Nothing less than heart. Same with a poem that bends light and snuggles the dark.  Light & dark. For six months, I think we should call it lightdark.  Then for next six months, darklight.  And every month, we should all be rainbow watchers. Of course, keep the penpaper (or is it paperpen) handy.