Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Moving at such speed, we would fall over if we were aware of the influence on us. But we do our balance/unbalance act of walking until we do reach a match, a lamppost, a cheap lighter. And why is this talking to me this morning? Because the light is dramatically beautiful and the shaggy eucalyptus are glowing. It's time for tomatoes & arugula. Time to hear a friend read her poems.
Monday, September 10, 2018
In the journey, does it matter? Movement, intention & mediation. Knife, fork, spoon. And, as we all know, the plate is pure paper. Food like a poem begins small. Close to water; perhaps a harbor. A cove for sure. With food as with foods -- passion aplenty.
embrace the potter's wheel. Perhaps, instead of clay, time. Or color which is another way to embrace the energies of food. Or words. I can feel it all. My hands are the perfect translators.
for the end of fig season. Caramelized Parmesan cheese with figs, walnuts, tomatoes, basil on a pita -- toasted & topped with arugula. A forest; a a canopy to protect the day. For the promise of a word or two.
what is spinning?
How does this affect the texture and color of the next meal?
What's the impact on the next words set down on the page and shared with Jane?
Take comfort, the center is visible. And the journey inward & outward is just that -- a journey.
But then again, a leaf of chard imbeds a red tree. Magic and alchemy: soil & cooking; meanwhile, imagination harvests poems. Yup.
Something from childhood, perhaps our first forays into reading picture books. Perhaps, we were fed on optimism instead of reality: the beauty & delicacy of fog. Perhaps, secretly we are lovers of orange food -- persimmons & such which we all know pares beautiful with fog & petite poems. Just look up fog's sleeves.