Saturday, March 27, 2010

Is personal experience mulch for a poem?

The past is always present. Mind churns it over.

The body, never far from hunger.

Breakfast is dawn arriving on a plate. Nutty cheese, sliced apple and bread. Dab of rough-cut marmalade. Small notebook/pen. Dream, fodder for…


  1. She stands outside her house this morning
    and waits for nothing
    waits for the dew on her car to dry
    the sidewalk to warm
    the first hint of danger to appear
    but it can not be danger that she feels

    She stands outside her house to look back inside
    the path is full of empty tulips
    and the footsteps of her lover
    only visible to her

  2. Love the purity, simplicity and intention of this blog. How many poets find the kitchen a source of creativity and inspiration? Better question: how could a poet not, assuming the writing requires a sensual, sensitive being, sensitive to taste, texture, and sound of food. Thanks for doing this - a welcome entry to the blogosphere, Kit