Monday, March 22, 2010

What is the pure Spring poem?

Bucolic? 27 shades of wet-green? Not necessarily. Spring is jumble. Hands-down, subterranean revolution. Eruption & feast for eye/nose. Totally, messy.


Equivalent in food? Lots of dishes/cutting surfaces. Field greens, tangy goat cheese, roasted beets, roasted almonds, cherry tomatoes, nasturtium. Fresh herbs of the snipper’s choice.


Snipping a poem comes...

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