Deadlines

Make peace with deadlines or this is how your spirit reacts.
Fear a deadline, the carrots are charred beyond desire.
Fear a deadline, poems sound like frenetic bug-eyed creatures
howling in a wind tunnel.  Sashay up to a deadline & see what happens.
Of course, I'm writing this for myself.

Light emanates from the abstract

Go ahead, make up the story about what this image is or isn't.  Get personal or not.  Include a pen or a spoon.  Or both.  Make up something that feeds those you love and those folks yet-to-be met.

Salt & pepper

How many dishes have you eaten in the last two years which were truly black & white creations?   Here's a seldom considered fact for you, the above image is how a page sees language written upon it.

Storing the past

Photographs, memory & taste.  A wondrous cabinet of sweetmeats.  Meanwhile, fingers taste the alphabet & find it intriguing & beguiling.  Downright tasty.  

Trade in grade school teachers' red pencils for this

the streak of a redwing blackbird across vibrant trees.  See the ruffling.  Nothing crossed out. Nothing negated. Use the alphabet accordingly; cook with sassy colors.  A slice of heirloom tomatoes across greens.  Yummy.

What came first

the leaves or chairs?  Is this the chicken & egg conundrum?  Is an overuse of adverbs looming?  Besides, who thinks of dead leaves in summer?

Blender

Go ahead.  Imagine putting summer into a blender just at the time evening turns indigo.  What will this chilled soup taste of?  Kale?  Zucchini?  Who can explain to me why the timbre of a poem written at this time is so very different from one penned in the early morning hours?