Friday, August 30, 2019
Thursday, August 29, 2019
It's a poem about mussels, about sensual love, about shadows. About the forbidden. Two visuals on the same text -- a softer approach and a rendition spoken from shadows. Of course, salt has been added to the latter.
Tuesday, August 27, 2019
in all her aspects, in all her shapes & colors. Even the stems step up for the party. Perhaps, I should write my poems in red ink. Perhaps, too much? How about writing petite poems with an orange pigment?
Wednesday, August 21, 2019
Monday, August 19, 2019
Sunday, August 18, 2019
Saturday, August 17, 2019
and titles it, "from the inside, out."
Write a 1 lines poem in pink ink which can be read left to right or right to left and which feels like a minimal epic.
Construct a meal where the desert tastes like an appetizer.
Thursday, August 15, 2019
Flux is the measure of time; the measure of one's life.
The measure of a favorite dish made with sweet carrots & onion
and the reason why the same poem tastes differently with each reading.
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
Precipices are interesting how they command our expectations. For isn't a precipice a vast, deep, steep falling off spot. Now, consider the curb, i.e., a manageable precipice often with a color-coded warning. Makes me think of carrots -- manageable sweetness. Or the word "perhaps" in a poem:
a very, very manageable emotion.
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
Monday, August 12, 2019
Perhaps it's a meal coming together with the lush bounty of the season with intriguing parings of spices & herbs? Or paper inviting just those apt mix of words to mend or upend and please the ears. Palpable. Pick up a spoon; pick up a pen: just get out of your own way.