Monday, March 11, 2013

What to do when the dish and the poem miss the mark?

The mouth, the ear understands failure. Mentions it and moves along. Dwelling on the less-than never invites abundance.
And what is writing, what is a fine meal if not abundances. Rainbow chard being an extravagance.

A few days ago, I roasted kale. Didn't work. Neither did the lines of poetry that morning. Discarded, both. Looking forward to what the next remodel of leftovers will issue.

1 comment:

  1. (hypotheticals continued)

    Soon the merchant learned the unexpected:
    the foreman had received a letter from a stranger
    he had hidden it in the pocket of his apron
    which was found by the local laundry service

    the owner of the service had a son who was his worker
    and couldn't resist reading the letter
    he interpreted the letter as from a secret lover
    and was shocked as he knew the foreman's wife

    not knowing what to do he sought the counsel of the clergy
    who was busy attending the conclave events in the capital
    and passed the laundryman's case onto a prelate
    who unfortunately had fancied the foreman's wife