Makes me think of snow. Paper feels different with ink upon it. Bird tracks and ruts. When a notebook is filled and/or abandoned, how many poems, like the black wrought iron arms of a patio chair, peek through snow?
Makes me think of ingredients which conceal and then reveal. For instance, flavored olive oil. I particularly like Sciabica’s rosemary, basil, orange, and lime olive oils. Use creatively. Use daily.
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