Saturday, May 15, 2010

Do poets have a disproportionate amount of words swirling around their heads?

Or feet? Because, you know, meter. Are there correspondences with other “professions?” Scientist with formulas; construction worker, her nails?



I know this to be true firsthand with cooks. My fingers attract stone fruit (especially mangos, plums & pluots), salmon, shellfish, pears, beets, fennel, and fresh herbs. And a particular woman,
with/without her apron.

1 comment:

  1. Aprons as they once were

    Too bad there is nothing as warm
    as her kitchen, digressing in heat

    it could be a singular soup spoon
    or the tangle of emblems on her sleeve

    the insistence of a newly devout whistle
    over and over and over again

    a kettle rocking with abandon
    a cutting board without limits

    some fairly starched fishbones
    in a consomme of lust

    you'd think it odd if she weren't there
    after hanging laundry on the line

    you'd wonder if she went to get the mail
    or went away again

    you'd see a note and be afraid to read it
    lipstick on the napkin by the door

    a smudge on the bathroom mirror
    the air should smell of peaches

    but all the trees are bare
    and the steam off the laundry

    rose at least an hour ago

    ReplyDelete