Saturday, March 25, 2017

Imagine the cat as an abstract painting?

Yup, here he is.  haiku. At least his leg.  At the center is the rug.  OK, there's a bit of manipulation.  Can't you feel the plush fur. Cats and salads are ripe for abstraction. And both very dear in the particulars.

Don't confuse rosemary with heaven


at least the breath of heaven.  Precisely, Coleonema pulchrum --  the breath of heaven.  But speaking of rosemary, I love its breath, too.  What words smell like rosemary?  Perhaps, that's the title of a poem.  Or perhaps, it's a blink poem.  All by itself. Just like an Asian pear sliced is a blink poem of the fruit kingdom.  Your mouth agrees, doesn't it?

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Fleeting



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!

2/25
this morning the sky
was shouting your name
I have no reason
why

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
not?