Tuesday, August 25, 2020

Not your usual cherry tomato

Not the usual garden.  Perhaps, best to keep quarantined though quite striking, don't you think?

Monday, August 24, 2020


Some words are perfect even if they aren't spoken everyday.  But when they are spoken, they send forth a visual.  A gesture to being in two places at the same time.  Like a spoon dipping into sauce.  A pen approaching paper.  A scurrying of light. 

Saturday, August 22, 2020

Whatever is happening, it looks hopeful


At the center of these times are four letters:  HOPE.  Swirling inward and outward.  No separation.  The world's mirror is not static.  

Wednesday, August 19, 2020

Vessels for gestures


Glass gladly holds reflections.  Sky is a vessel for clouds. A sauce coats a spoon.  Paper soaks up ink. And above all, the hand open contains everything.     

Monday, August 17, 2020

The Great Pause


Somewhere, there is precise name for this phenomenon, but it escapes me.  It's not a simple noun -- pen or spoon.  More viscous than liquid.  

Sunday, August 16, 2020

Night is an exquisite storyteller

 See, night transforming reeds into magic pens.  This happens whether anyone is present or not.  Whether the favored wooden spoon is at the ready; whether there is paper available to hold the wild gesturing  

Tuesday, August 11, 2020



is an intimacy.  Almost as much as corn & tomatoes.  Or pen & paper.  Something to consider, the next time you eavesdrop.  

Friday, August 7, 2020

You know so much already

Rain will begin in 15 minutes.  It's sound, a lullaby.

It's difficult to put down such a good story even though it's a cookbook. 

It's been a fragmented day full of shadow and reflection.  

This feeling might go on for some time.   

Thursday, August 6, 2020

Little one

This year I have noticed so many baby lizards.  Is it because the world is quieter or simply Zoomed-out?
Which poem, what dream will happen this evening hours after I have stirred the sauce for pasta. 

Wednesday, August 5, 2020

Unlikely container

And yet who's to say what a leaf, what a hand, what thought may hold. What spoon, a sauce. A pen, the final period.

Monday, August 3, 2020

Do I need a reason to be happy?

& fragments
simple acts
not too swifty
& liquid 
the seasonal
& swirled