The ingredients are at your fingertips. For a poem this means the alphabet and all the sounds which it creates. For last night's hand-crafted pizza a fiesta of leftovers including sauteed Crimini & white mushrooms, fennel, roasted garlic, cheddar, fresh lemon thyme, pepper, olive oil, small flatbread. Baked @ 400 degrees. Cut with scissors and arrange the slices on a bed of organic lettuces.
Sipping red wine, you know when the editing works, an arrangement of leftovers. You can hear it; you can taste it. Yummy.
High Heels
ReplyDeleteShe carries her pail of water
everywhere she goes
I says ok, ok sure
In the sorry tone he has adopted
he can't compare chance to ether
but takes her drumskin down a few
So then they all ride around in the delusion
for a while, in love with vignettes
about a thirsty soldier
He swigs from an old canteen
dreaming of a pail of it
and a big oven for baking