Sunday, August 7, 2016


This is an elegy for our local hardware store which burned last month.  I purchased this red sorrel over a year ago from that community resource.   The sorrel is thriving. The plant likes its place on the balcony.  Just the right amount of sun and daily misting.   I imagine it likes the company of oregano, too.

Tart and bright.  A bit lemony.  If you don't like the taste or sorrel, oh well, you can love the names of its kin -- rhubarb, buckwheat, wild docks, rau rum and, of course, knotweed.

Language and food are perfect spoon-sisters.

1 comment:

  1. Interrogation of Space

    shapes which have no special favor
    yet reappear in one's dreams
    one's life
    I'll put them down on paper
    or a slab of canvas
    honoring that which reappears
    as a friend might, or an enemy