Love for this New Year

a plate of words
a platter of persimmons

Tubers

& for the New Year -- food & words aplenty

Overlay

There is nothing 

singular about living

& there are textures 

in the air, in the soil

& in the words

in the foods 

we eat.

Gaia

She is everywhere.  She is in every thing, every word, every stem.  She is light.  She is dark. 

The beautiful otherwordly

A wild turkey is quite the sight.  A prehistoric head on a bounty of gorgeous feathers.  A cry to shatter silence for all time.  A ungainly dance.  No epics written inspired by turkeys.  Quite the meal, though.

Imagine

a city composed of persimmons.
How often I have imagined
a poem composed of persimmons.

Bliss

Inner thoughts

Winter Solstice week is a perfect time to consider the inner thoughts of thinking.  Buds are fine starting point.  Amaryllis, in particular.

Silence is the active intention for the next sentence. For the next meal to be assembled.  The candle lit.

Winter

a drift
of snow
on stem

how will you
describe
its fragrance?

how will
those words
inspire dinner?

From a plate of petals

 Don't forget the candle.  Never forget the light.  Without light, there is no dark. Bulbs need the dark.  Poems are the dance between light (paper) and dark (ink) and always, always inspire the meal.

Unlikely forest

What life force.  Unruly.  Uppity.
No longer a meal except to itself.
Can you feel the poem in the stem?

How to approach winter

with a vase
of water
inside & water-
falling on the outside
and because
this isn't real
mums & cypress
a pinecone &
because
this is California
eucalyptus
& because
last night
superb
miso, stirs
a sliver
of that familiar
moon
you could
leave
on your
sleeve
you could
recite
the breath
of light
to Chiyo-ni