Thursday, January 30, 2014


Yes, there's comfort food.  What's the equivalent in poetry?
If it's a poem I'm writing, probably the seasonal needs be visible.   Who can deny the persimmon, pomegranate, pears (of all kinds), berries bold.  Sometimes the seasonal is neither fruit nor vegetable.  Consider fog which I'm convinced is substantial as an eggplant and ubiquitous.

1 comment:

  1. Though we telescope the sky
    and dive unmasked fathoms deep
    stars still splinter the solid night
    and sun makes diamonds of the sea

    from "Women of Glass" EC, '68