These the colors & these the shapes I wish for every meal. For every poem. A meal and a poem share one thing -- a palette. Nature is never unsure of its canvas. Never untruthful. Although a trick of the eye is always welcomed.
And breakfast, you ask? Toasted walnut bread with a drizzle of olive oil and abundant slices of Fuyu persimmons. Why this abundance? Getting ready to celebrate my friend Kim's birthday.
Constellations 8/10
ReplyDeletePetticoats sparkle in the reticent heat
Where are the visitors? The workmen?
The universe as we know it expands and contracts
around a set of books--the two share sardines, mint leaves, olives
In the background, an industrial toy, grating, incessant
In her mind, a backyard of lavender, the fountain fixed and running
cp 479