Tuesday, June 18, 2019
and what supports it? Night's hands & a memory of sky. Remember, colors are memories' gestures as much as taste. As much as a pronouncement of nouns & verbs which as we all know is an international cuisine.
Sometimes, the poisonous calls our name. A ripening nightshade. An act of benevolent nature. The name Whippersnapper says it all with gleefully anticipation. All that remains is -- taste. And the koan -- how many cherry tomatoes make a salad?
Wednesday, May 29, 2019
but impressionistic, for sure. I think of ingredients
before the meal is created. The alphabet before a poem
created, before the poem spoken. Of course, this is
a Mother-in-Law plant which I have always called by
its popular name -- snake. Anyone remember poetry
at Forked Tongue?
Call it subtext. Call it creative inference. Call it the poem about to coalesce. Call it supper. This amount of mango & tomatoes will be yummy. And look the sky is blue. The gray? Just someone passing by.
Saturday, May 25, 2019
might as well be new shoots on the flowering jasmine. But then again, I'm drawn to black ink, black coffee & an unwavering love of concrete. Love the surface of concrete. Much depth there. Like layering flavors in a salad. Or arranging words into a petite poem beginning with "thus." Or ending.