poetry bites

Phoneme. Is there an finite number of phonemes to each poem?

2012-01-26T07:33:00.000-08:00

Not in general. Specifically, ask each poem for the smallest bit of distinguishing speech. As my grandmother used to say, "Watch your silk and milk."

In cooking, milk and it's exquisite relative, cream, can make a soup sing of silk.

Sprung rhythm. When poetry lets loose, can it be said that it has sprung itself?

2012-01-25T17:31:00.000-08:00

No, not inception as much sporting variety. Not only is variety a condiment of life, it helps ensure the orchard continues to be robust, year after year.

In the kitchen there is the sprung pan, of course. Or am I imagining. Anyway, returning to tapas, which I am oh so happy to do, is a panoply of sprung dishes. Nothing short on panache to the littlest of plate or bowl filled so.

Enjambent. How else does poetry makes of itself more?

2012-01-24T22:12:00.000-08:00

Letters are the first line of enjambent. One into the next. A word. Another. The line breaks and meaning intensifies. Just listen to the master: Joni Mitchell. Yes, fashion is in the mix. And conversation.

Meals are meant to intensify. Think about what breaks your taste into its sublime echo. For me, all of the above commingles into an exquisite shade of blue. You know who is singing?

Caesura. Are there more beautiful breaks in a poem?

2012-01-23T21:26:00.000-08:00

Doubtful. Just there, outside of meter's grasp. In the palm of meaning. And, of course, breath. Which is to say meaning. Comma or no.

Plenty caesura and commas in a meal. For instance, that unmistakable ping of pepper stops and then jump starts the tongue. Or the sigh after conversation & wine. Of course, after the crab has been cracked. Examples, innumerable. Always something is in season. Silence, respite & blessing, never more so.

Acatalectic. At the end what saves poetry from being defective?

2012-01-22T07:47:00.000-08:00

Broken bits of syllables catch the light from which the whole, expectedly hums.

A bit of grated cheese transforms broken bits of pasta. Splurge, add fresh basil. The proper weight of word and meal. A good hum, also.

Canto. Is silence the canto in a small poem?

2012-01-21T08:59:00.000-08:00

Large & palpable is silence and has been known to deliciously stain a page. Inhabit the digital as well. Thus, are all poems large?

Oh, a meal of tidbits. On small plates. How this fills the senses. A bowl brims with fruit.

Hum. Do most poems hum?

2012-01-16T09:48:00.000-08:00

On their own volition? Hum being a category of sound color. Partial to n, m, ng. And where is the hum in a fully realized echo?

Meals, of course, are bastions of humming. A gentle boil is a circular hum, don't you agree? And why are you whistling?

Scansion. Does a poem need an outside force to perform scansion on itself?

2012-01-13T14:50:00.000-08:00

Internal scansion? Yes, not internal combustion. Although when a poem implodes, there is an organic rhythm heard.

Regarding fruits and vegetables, the ripe always performs self-scansion. How else could we be privy to its essence.

Slack. Does most poetry today suffer from being too unstressed?

2012-01-11T18:11:00.000-08:00

Slack and unstressed? Or strident & rant-ish? Perhaps, one might consider a fence. What is one side might not be on the other.

Slack food? Mild tastes & casual appearances. Minimal heat. My eyes are tasting quiet, miniature peppers with only the stress of bold color: yellow, red, and orange.

Molossus. When was the last time someone said this poem would benefit from molossus.

2012-01-10T09:40:00.000-08:00

(Editor's note: in no way connected to mollusks.) The larger question: which poems benefit from a classically long start? Or a slow finish?

So similar to a meal, isn't it? Should desert linger or ping & bite as in citrus sorbet? How much hinges on what came before.

Morpheme. Does every poem contain at least one morpheme?

2012-01-09T20:39:00.000-08:00

Nonsense, you say. But don't say uncle.

In cooking, it's olive oil heating up and ready for what comes next. Olive oil is never unwanted.

Aubade. Can an aubade by recited in the evening?

2012-01-07T18:35:00.000-08:00

Poetry is all about timing, especially the delivery of. Is there such a thing as "proper time." What happens when a lover's duet written for dawn, is read in the evening?

Is this similar to eating pizza for breakfast. If so, I'm all for it. Have a discernible track record.

Kymograph. What measures the acoustic qualities in a poem?

2012-01-06T16:17:00.000-08:00

Now that the kymograph is obsolete are we left to our ears -- individual and collective? Sound can be silent but is it ever singular? What do decibels of sound reveal?

Look to the meal. In the kitchen, the crispness of carrot & celery. Various salad greens ripped into smallish and uneven pieces. The name snap peas says it all, doesn't it. The kitchen is a laboratory of sound. And smells. So you ask, what measures the smells in a poem?

Anacrusis. Does a poem always have a lead-in syllable?

2012-01-02T20:47:00.000-08:00

Yes, though sometimes unarticulated. Specifically, the breath before the first word spoken aloud or silent. Sometimes, the collective breath of an audience after the final word.

And of food. The lingering moment before the hand grasps the knife. Reaches for the spoon to stir soup. And all during, the cook's breath.

Bowl. What does bowl have in common with a poem?

2011-12-30T18:15:00.000-08:00

Neither full.
Neither empty.

Just.

Happy New Year! Celebrate with a bowl of deliciousness & may all your words be sweet & sassy.

Fold. What makes a poem fold?

2011-12-30T18:09:00.000-08:00

Time and/or fingers if the poem be printed.
Do poems have folds? As many as memory, crevices. Think of this as an ear fold. Think of this as a poem hugs itself.

What food is folded? Eggrolls. Dumplings of all kinds & cultures. Tacos. And sometimes, a peanut butter & jelly sandwich crafted from one slice.

Pomegranates. How is the predicability of poem like a pomegranate?

2011-12-26T18:28:00.000-08:00

Well, not much. Supposedly, a pomegranate contains 613 seeds. A poem contain as much space as it can contain. Perhaps, precisely as much as the poet can handle. Word count is not the issue.

Oh, the cook who is willing to stain hands to a pomegranate! Both meditation & outcome, two-fold reward. Next time, saute pomegranate (seeds, of course) with fresh rosemary. Add a bit of white wine. Continue until most of liquid evaporates. Add a handful of pecans. Heat for a few seconds. Serve with meat, fowl, fish, or serve on the side with cheese. Or all.

Persimmons. How do persimmons and poetry relate?

2011-12-26T18:21:00.000-08:00

Persimmons are the perfect subject for a poem.
Poetry inspires the taking of persimmons.
Any other questions?

A statement: the valuable purpose of persimmons should never be questioned. I am speaking of the fuyu, of course.

Nothing. When is poetry nothing?

2011-12-21T20:18:00.000-08:00

Or is the question, can poetry reach enlightenment? Never the poet; only the poem.

Enlightened food? Yes. All that is ripe and appreciated.

Palpable. How is the palpable measured in a poem?

2011-12-20T21:40:00.000-08:00

Breath. Space. And all the ways one measures sound.

In food, the tongue is the instrument of measurement of the palpable. Also eyes. As well as dirt on roots.

Mirror. What does a poem mirror?

2011-12-19T20:42:00.000-08:00

Whatever is in front of it. Above all, a poem is practical. And always open to interpretation.

Is fruit plural (as in what hangs from a tree, from a bush) because each mirrors the other. Sadness is mirrored by one apple hanging on a bare winter branch.

Sleeve. What is the closest approximation of a sleeve in poetry?

2011-12-18T09:59:00.000-08:00

Perhaps, a dust jacket for a hard cover volume. Less & less frequent.
Or the line break; you wonder what will issue forth. Some finished. Some raggedy.

Sleeves in the good meal? Romaine sleeves stuffed with a vegetable pesto & cheese & nuts. Or chicken well spiced. I'll take under advisement with the haiku the cat. A great source of the non sequitur.

Tethered. What is a poem tethered to?

2011-12-18T09:51:00.000-08:00

Words and the sounds they issue.

And of a meal? Memory. The same can be said of poetry, I guess. In both, the concrete and the elusive. Candles, of course, do neither harm.

Articulated. A poem is the sum of articulated words, right?

2011-12-17T10:26:00.000-08:00

Yup. Plus articulated space and silence. There you have it.

Regarding food, the tongue articulates what is not seemingly seen. The nose also participates.

Idiosyncratic. What makes an idiosyncratic poem?

2011-12-17T10:22:00.000-08:00

The one who writes the poem. The one who reads the poem. Of course, certain words lend themselves to an idiosyncratic texture. "Idiosyncratic" being an example.

Much the same is said of a cook. Also, the one who eats the meal. Of course, certain foods are both visually & tactically peculiar & personal. Close your eyes; visualize.

Twist. What is the latest twist of poetry?

2011-12-16T20:19:00.000-08:00

3: tweets, mixed genre (aka hybrids) and visual poems. The digital media is poetry.

As the cook twists dough into a familiar holiday braid. Later, she will read the newest Rendell mystery. She may/she may not tweet about it.

Penny? If you had a penny for every poem you've written?

2011-12-16T20:10:00.000-08:00

There would be weight not not much substance.

With those savings, buy the ripe fuyu persimmons. Much fun can be had -- eaten out of hand. Peeled/sliced and added to salads and/or rice. Sauteed makes long standing friends with green beans. Puree and add to the morning yogurt. Or my new favorite, roast them as you would pears. Never doubt the weight & power of the most petite currency.

Assortment. How is poetry like an assortment of candy?

2011-12-16T20:01:00.000-08:00

Some you like. Some you don't. Some you (cleverly) put back with a bite taken out.

Poetry & sweets? I'm thinking a red wine sweetened sauce for poached pears. Topped with vanilla ice cream. Yup, that's what I'm tasting. I have no intention of putting any of it back.

Pluot. What does today's poetry have in common with a pluot?

2011-12-06T21:45:00.000-08:00

Both are hybrids.

I dream in the color of pluots. My eyes hold their sweet, crisp, cold.

Rattle. When does a poem rattle?

2011-12-05T12:21:00.000-08:00

When it wants attention?
When it receives too much attention?
When no one is reading it?

Yes, & more.

More can be said of food which rattles. But first consider the kettle and its rattling of water for tea. The matriarch of sound.

Ledge. How is a collection of poems like a ledge?

2011-11-30T08:23:00.000-08:00

It enjoys the privilege of a shelf or precipice. My grandmother said she heard that collected poems have been observed scuba diving in a reef.

Suspect yet charming like certain foods. I'm thinking blood oranges. Pineapple mint.

Qualify. How does a poem qualify for a title?

2011-11-30T08:16:00.000-08:00

Or does the title qualify for a poem?
And what of individual words?

Time to return to tea & question: leaves & water.

Unshakable. What is unshakable in a poem?

2011-11-30T08:08:00.000-08:00

An unshakable faith in word and the space in-between. An unshakable exploration of both.

What is unshakable in a meal? The unshakable faith the ripe has in a bowl. Or the human hand to hold.

Malice. Does a poem wish words malice?

2011-11-26T22:01:00.000-08:00

Or words, malice to a poem? Neither, I believe. (And what faith-system might that be?) And yet, there are wicked poems and poems wickedly written and deliciously spoken.

In cooking ingredients, cookware, knife, and recipe need to coexist and soar. Mindfulness with a tinge of heat & laughter. Remember, a tongue is the possibility of flame. I do believe, charred peppers (yellow, orange & red) are a delightful, spirited conversation.

Ritual. Is there a ritual to writing poetry?

2011-11-26T21:01:00.000-08:00

Two (not mutual exclusive). (1) Whatever it takes for inspiration. (2) Whatever it takes to create a writing discipline. Candles, do no harm. Neither the cat. Neither a cafe. Nor a museum.

Hunger is a personal ritual to cooking. As is the desire to feed people. Cooking inspires poems; I know this personally.

Intersect. With what does a poem intersect?

2011-11-24T09:49:00.000-08:00

A place in words. Thus, sound & memory.

Happy Thanksgiving. Instead of turkey, serve a poem.

GRATEFUL TO BE IN PLACE

All life begins
with a list:

wash windows
clean oven
oil table
prune flowers/change water
open refrig/take inventory

eat the spinach
milk expires in 3 days
fish in less

No stopping you

eat last serving
chicken soup
for breakfast

buy candles
plug in small space heater
cat demands petting
(your intention, anyway)

As you write, the unexpected

a book is a room
& words: sound

Out of somewhere
where you are
not
that Thanksgiving
song

yet
snow-less
& sled-less
& grandmother
some 50 years,
dead

Wet. What is wet poetry?

2011-11-22T11:05:00.000-08:00

Wet, as in "behind the ears?"
Wet, as so fresh as the letters are not completely dry?
Wet, as in the subject matter. Rain, monsoon, drownings of all stripes.
Or soggy. Boggy.
Remember, the weight of water overwhelms paper & pen.

So logically we move to wet food. Soups both hot & cold. Mostly steaming & fragrant to the kitchen as flowers to a table. To chicken soup add curried cauliflower. Yes, no one is looking --enjoy it for breakfast. A savory start. Consider, soup as the idea form/format/inspiration for the next poem (as in the last).

Physics. Does poetry adhere to the laws of physics?

2011-11-22T10:56:00.000-08:00

Yup. Matter. Bodies of letters falling. Palpable energy.

A good cook understands (perhaps, without verbalizing) the byways of physics. Energy rearranged on a plate for a grateful mouth. For that matter, conversation also.

Glass. Is the surface of a poem like glass?

2011-11-17T20:21:00.000-08:00

Definitely. Except when it is as stone and/or crater. Or crinkled paper.

In a meal, the glass surface usually is a container. Except when we are speaking of ice and deliciously and tremendously chilled. As in a martini. Of course, it being also contained by glass.

Eerie. Are poems eerie?

2011-11-16T12:21:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, eerie as the word eerie.

Though not as otherworldly eerie as Buddha's hand. Or the odoriferous durian?

Prey. What does a poem prey upon?

2011-11-11T14:57:00.000-08:00

Silence. And is well fed.

A meal cannot be created in total silence. A cook should mediate upon incomplete silence while she turns up the heat. Perhaps, too, a poet captures the beveled edge of things.

Bartender. How is a poet like a bartender?

2011-11-10T10:18:00.000-08:00

The bartender tends the bar. Keeps conversation & liquids in a fine balance. The poet (a wordtender) tends to the shape & sound of letters, until a receptive ear arrives.

So, is cooktender (cook-tender?) instruction in a recipe? Or an Old English word for the one who tends the meal? Perhaps, we should ask Gertrude.

Shimmer. What makes a poem shimmer?

2011-11-10T10:05:00.001-08:00

Two things. Pen on paper. Light.

The sheen on soup can shimmer and rival any accompaniment of words. Especially chicken.

Honey. How do you tell if there is honey in a poem?

2011-11-10T10:02:00.000-08:00

The ear is the grand marshall of taste.

Honey in tea is grand. Honey on particular cheeses is divine. The language of honey rivals the word-gestures of wine.

Olives. How are poems like olives?

2011-11-10T09:58:00.000-08:00

No, this is no more a riddle than a meal. Olives come with and without pits. Poems come with and without narrative. Logic is simple as a dominant hand.

Olives can be the center of a meal (pits or pitted). Simply add to the olives of your choice: feta cheese, tomatoes,fuyu persimmons, cooked green beans, fresh parsley, a twist of pepper. The color alone is worth the mouth's wait.

Harvest. Is a poem a harvest of words?

2011-11-01T16:04:00.000-07:00

Exclusive? Prose, also?
Perhaps, you were saying, harvest of sound.

& the taste in the mouth equates to the harvest of a meal. And its color. Quite orange. A healthy orange.

Concrete. By nature is poetry concrete?

2011-10-28T14:13:00.000-07:00

Every bit as much as stillness.

As in the stillness just before the first bite of the anticipated meal.

Boundaries. What are the natural boundaries of a poem?

2011-10-27T14:15:00.000-07:00

There are 3:
page
digital space
& punctuation.

And of a meal? Plate. Or bowl. Or both. What punctuates a meal? Pepper.

Overlook. How does a poem personifiy the word overlook?

2011-10-26T12:42:00.000-07:00

The usual way, by definition:
inspect
look down upon
rise above
miss
oversee.

Contradictions abound.

If a poem were food (which it is), we would say -- As the cook's hands overlook the meal.

Reverse. What happens when a poem is put in reverse?

2011-10-25T16:36:00.000-07:00

Goes backwards.
To inspiration.

My grandmother said, don't worry about putting the child's meal in reverse....let her enjoy your ice cream first.

Smitten. What is a poem smitten with?

2011-10-24T23:48:00.000-07:00

Foremost, preposition? Perhaps, not. The obvious -- words. I'd fine tune it to the silence that words sculpt.

Appetites smitten a meal. Eyes, also. Simple: avocado, heirloom tomatoes, cilantro, a bit of fresh parsley and more of fresh cilantro, Bulgarian feta, pumpkin seeds, black pepper, olive oil.
Pita pocket. Plate on a plate, full of color & the ripe.

Decision. Is a poem predicated on decision?

2011-10-23T09:12:00.000-07:00

Rarely singular. Plural as in the community of ears. Remember, a line break is a decision as readily as the choice of "a" verses the choice of "the."

Of course, "of" is always deliberate as only a decision can.

Regarding breakfast (which is no less a decision to break fast), food carries a decisiveness to mouth, eye & nose. Although rarely discussed, a poem (with its myriad of subtext decisions) can lead to what to eat next. Meals often are inspired by the form-decisions of poetry: banquets like odes. Picnics, very haiku. The a rant akin to fast food?

Egg. Is the poem kin to the egg?

2011-10-19T14:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, and this isn't about which came first. About inception. And, of course, who doesn't hear yolk in yoke.

The egg is miraculous in its myriad of formats. And consistency. Sometimes obvious.
Sometimes blended to mere invisibility. But present. Now, consider hybrid writing.

Threads. Is there always at least one thread in a poem?

2011-10-18T13:08:00.000-07:00

Of course, how else can the button be realized.

Since it's close to Halloween, we probably should mention spiders, too. Threads and webs. Words caught in the sentence. Silence snagged by a line break.

And that's exactly the feeling a carrot has for the knife. Or the field greens for a colander.

Tinted. What happens when a poem is tinted?

2011-10-18T12:52:00.000-07:00

Is it read differently? Shades & shadows.
Does the poem see itself a tad more dark?
Is it a siren to the Paparazzi?

Speaking to the mechanics, how is a poem tinted? By perspective?

And of food, which might be considered tinted. Eggplant. Small deep,deep purple ovals remind me of sunglasses. (I digress, wouldn't you think sunglasses would siren the sun and not wish to repel).

Language itself is a tinted & beveled being. Much the same can be said of a deliciously ripe salad.

Buttons. How many buttons does a poem require?

2011-10-13T18:21:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm thinking words are so like buttons. They fasten one thing to another and when not, miraculously all is revealed.

Button mushrooms. I fancy a full range of fungi. A full range of arranged words, too.

Persuasive. Does a poem want to be persuasive?

2011-10-13T13:15:00.000-07:00

Or the ear persuaded?

Just as the tongue is persuaded by the perfect apple which is persuaded to be even
grander with just the proper wedge of cheese.

Persimmons. Soon the poem will take on persimmons.

2011-10-13T13:12:00.000-07:00

A poem is about what is seasonal and/or out of.
Often, more than two seasons.

There are two major types of persimmons. I prefer fuyu. The word itself is meal.
Is poem. And ripe is hard. Is crunchy.

Porcupine. What is porcupine like about a poem?

2011-10-13T13:04:00.000-07:00

Shape.
Hard-edged
& bristled.

Perhaps,
one
once
roasted
a porcupine.

Truly? What makes a poem soar?

2011-10-10T12:25:00.000-07:00

Thermodynamics and currents?
Timber of the speaker's voice? Receptivity of the listeners' ears?

As individual, taste in food as in words. Skill & adventure.

Stolen. What is stolen about a poem?

2011-10-10T12:16:00.000-07:00

A moment?
A turn of phrase?
The echo of a remembered voice?

Recipes are handed-down. Ripped out of magazines. Cut/pasted/copied from the digital.

Heirloom. Is a poem inherently an heirloom?

2011-10-08T09:19:00.000-07:00

Perhaps, a poem is informed (benefits from?) the tradition of the heirloom. Something considered important, familial, and passed down as a treasured, physical object. Heirloom thoughts? A poem most becomes a physical object when it is spoken. When its words & spaces, heard. When it is passed around in space & time. And its taste? Varied as the tongue receiving; as the ear listening.

Heirloom food? Well, tomatoes, of course. Their names are poems in-and-of their brave & satisfying colors. Black Plum, Brandywine, Sungold Cherry, Cherokee Purple, Green Zebra, Amish Paste, Pineapple. Put down the pen; put down the paper. Get out the olive oil, basil, & black pepper. Perhaps, sea salt. Yes, bread.

Isosceles. Is a poem comprised of 2 equal sides?

2011-09-29T08:40:00.000-07:00

If a poem were a geometric form, would it most likely be a triangle and an isosceles one at that? By the way, what are the 2 sides of poem? Perhaps, title & text. Or words and silence? Of course,
no doubt there are poems on the subject of being isosceles. That, for another month.

Moving on to the meal, food and dish (as in plating) equal pleasure. You're welcomed to think of this as title & text. Or crunch & silence.

Roasted. How does roasted poetry taste?

2011-09-28T13:06:00.000-07:00

Well if by roasted you mean celebrated, then it's sweet to the ears. If you mean cooked, I haven't a clue.

I've heard that a fine poem is similar to roasted vegetable --especially onions,carrots and parsnips,sliced yams in foil, garlic, & eggplant. Separate or together as in an anthology. As most lists, the roasted veggie one expands as needed. And all, revered & celebrated.

Blouse. If poetry were a garment would it be a blouse?

2011-09-27T08:33:00.000-07:00

Historically, women weren't the only ones to wear a blouse -- children, workman, peasants, and artist. A blouse -- the outer garment gathered at the waist (so there is not waste), calling for us to pay attention to the inner. A poem is like this -- outer/inner, cinched in some way to the page or the listener's ear. Necessary, practical, perhaps beautiful. Mysterious.

Of all the food, I think the tomato (in all its heirloom varieties) is most blouse-like. Your thoughts?

Silhouette. What determines the silhouette of a poem?

2011-09-26T20:55:00.000-07:00

Form?
Sound?
Line breaks?
Repetition and/or call and response?

Is a silhouette how a poem appears on the page? How a poem sounds in the ear? Or how the poem tastes in the mouth? Perhaps, when the constellations align -- all these.

Of the food taken tonight. The lacquer bowl held jasmine rice steeped in green tea, steamed skinny green beans, and wild salmon marinated with soy/wasabi & fresh ginger and then pan fried.
And when the lid removed from the lacquer bowl, silhouettes aplenty and non in opposition.

Same could be said of the tastes herein.

Scant. Is poetry skimpy?

2011-09-25T10:46:00.000-07:00

Not in a meager sort of way. And sparse is always a blessing.

Simple & fresh always a beauteous paring on the plate.

Thyme. What herb best scents a poem?

2011-09-24T19:37:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking thyme.

Off the page, in the kitchen, I'm thinking lemon thyme never disappoints. With eggs, with mushrooms. Basil in not the only herb for tomatoes. Or potatoes.

Time enough to consider.

Inconvenience. Is poetry ever an inconvenience?

2011-09-22T19:49:00.000-07:00

Ask a constellation.

What's inconvenient about food? Too far to the market? Not enough -- yes, that surely.
Too much, that, too, painfully.

Balance & ripe. Seesaw & stars.

Chamber. How many chambers does the typical poem have?

2011-09-17T09:39:00.000-07:00

As many as it needs to keep sound circulating.
As many as it needs to keep a few spare words when the power goes out.

How many chambers does a kitchen have?

As many as it needs to keep taste circulating.
As many as it needs to keep some tasty leftovers and a selection of olive oils.

And of the chambered nautilus? I believe, 80.

List. Does a poem list?

2011-09-16T20:48:00.000-07:00

As in tilt? Or is it ramrod straight? Another thing to consider, are most poems word-lists.

Recipes are lists to be followed, manipulated, or ignored. A good meal lists into good words. Call it conversation.

Jester. Is poetry a jester?

2011-09-13T12:19:00.000-07:00

Only on Tuesdays. Late mornings at that.

Is a pancake, bread?
Can a saucepan double as a fry pan?

What is jester; what is gibberish?

Articulated. Is the articulated or the unarticulated most present in a poem?

2011-09-12T20:53:00.000-07:00

It matters: the weight of breath.

Some say the freshest ingredient make the finest meal. I'd include the kindest of breath.

Fractal. Is poetry fractal?

2011-09-11T19:20:00.000-07:00

Yes. Is peace? Yes. Are poetry and peace related? Yes.

The peaceful kitchen is fractal in abundant, happy pieces.

Bamboo. Do poems exhibit bamboo qualities?

2011-09-10T09:32:00.000-07:00

First, let's look at bamboo qualities. Quick growth. Flexibility. Comes in several colors. A system of rhizomes can crowd the stage in quick order. Poems overtake a page in a way that prose doesn't. Besides, I've always said poems have rhizomes.

Bamboo is catching on in the kitchen -- plates, bowls, platters, table runners. Even silverware. Floors. Of course, steamers. Oh those rhizomes.

Book. Does every poem belong in a book?

2011-09-06T14:22:00.001-07:00

Is every book filled with poetry?
Is every poem written, a poem?

Why aren't books published with a few blank pages in the midst of all those words. Not the end pages.

Is every meal, a meal? And memorable?

Today, the sun is in full-force; here an unlikely event. The meal, shared, will be good and the words, if not a poem, at least will down-to-earth and savory.

Coda? Do most poems incorporate a coda?

2011-09-04T17:30:00.000-07:00

Is closure possible in a poem? Perhaps and probable as a line invites the necessary journey.

With in meal (and life) codas are plates taken to the sink. Smiles & happy bellies from food & conversation. Which is not to say, one can't enjoy a solo exquisite meal. Often should.

Landscape. Does landscape equate to a poem's physicality?

2011-09-02T12:31:00.000-07:00

If landscape is how a poem looks to the eye, is sound-scape how the ear interprets the poem? Perhaps, the nose is also involved, subtly.

What's sound-scape in cooking? Ear and nose, of course. The eye wants to be attracted to a plated landscape, don't you think?

Feral. Is a particular school of poetry more feral than another?

2011-08-29T12:32:00.000-07:00

Narrative? Lyric? Confessional? Hybrid? Does a poetic form invite the untamed? It's been said that formal structure liberates a poem.

Like a recipe followed, or not quite.

Insatiable. Is poetry insatiable about words?

2011-08-27T20:37:00.000-07:00

Of course. Or if you prefer a one word answer: yup. Words are protein. Are words the most basic protein?

With cooking it comes to the ripe. And comfort.

Innocence. Where does innocence dwell in a poem?

2011-08-26T14:17:00.000-07:00

The silence following the poet setting down/setting forth her experience. Also, after a reader is sated.

Some food is innocent. Some, menacing. Some, weapons of mass.

Palpable. What is palpable about poetry?

2011-08-25T12:18:00.000-07:00

Cadence? Form? How it palpably rearranges heart & mind -- sometimes slightly. Sometimes seismically?

Food is as palpable as words, formed into bread or poetry. Ask any tongue.

Fiber. What is the fiber of a poem?

2011-08-24T12:19:00.000-07:00

Perhaps, it's DNA? Does it differ depending upon the type of poem, i.e., language, narrative, lyric? And what of hybrid and/or visual poetry? Much to think about (but not shout). Or does it take the lead from nutrition?

The cook who laughs brings a healthy fiber to each meal.

Figs. Why do poems remind me of figs?

2011-08-23T08:07:00.000-07:00

Portable
Edible
Nutritious
Makes the mouth happy
Engages many senses
Plenty of seeds (which are not bothersome to eat)
Fine subject matter for a poem
The very word is a mini poem, making a sound that is both definitive and playful

And versatile as in cooking -- fresh or dried. Yup, figs.

Forget. What is the poem trying to forget?

2011-08-18T20:22:00.000-07:00

What is the matter of a poem's dream? (Not "with.") Therein, lies.

Of course, a cook dreams of the ripe. Forgets or forgives, rot.

Sandwich. How is a poem like a sandwich?

2011-08-17T12:53:00.000-07:00

Convenient, on-the-go, filling food. Can be nutritious. Extremely versatile. Conducive to the ripe. Able to push and bend boundaries. A true mouthful.

Of food, the sandwich is ubiquitous and no longer square.

Egg. What eggs on a poem?

2011-08-16T21:46:00.000-07:00

The poet? The reader?

For the cook, it's the eater. And the bounty of season. Can you eat a poem. Most certainly.

Everything. Is everything personal included in a poem?

2011-08-15T22:01:00.000-07:00

Even the most minimal and objective? (Narrative aside.)

And if this were a meal offered at its most minimal, would each ingredient be stridently defined and cognizant of boundary? Make a soup from leftovers. And contemplate. Boundaries waffle into everything.

Brittle. Is poetry brittle?

2011-08-14T22:37:00.000-07:00

To some ears, yes. To some eyes, yes. No others not in the aggregate.

What's askew about the brittle? A well-earned facade of age. The break (as in line) is not un-welcomed.

And what of poetry in the digital age -- visual-poems, etal? Where the fissures?

Brittle food? Candied apples haven't crossed my mind (or tongue) in decades. Won't in the near future, either.

Perhaps. Perhaps, the poem started out as a to-do list?

2011-08-11T10:54:00.000-07:00

Words inform and siren. Comfort as only a list can. Complete the task and a strike a line through the word. Editing, I suppose. The earlier version, visible.

List poems, of course.

Perhaps, a late lunch with a savory list of ingredients. Something unexpected. Peach pizza, perhaps.

Eggplant. Can a word so strange (in its parts) spawn a poem?

2011-08-09T20:09:00.000-07:00

In the non-aggregate, not so strange, rather common & comfy. Egg & plant. In the aggregate, what would come to something so purple. '

The essence of a poem, I'd say.

Roasted eggplant -- nothing finer. Then again, an egg, boiled is a mansion.

Threads. What are threads in a poem?

2011-08-07T08:56:00.000-07:00

The invisible mechanism to fasten words to a page. Or to a screen. Or is it more akin to the successive meanings in an email and/or CP (cell phone) conversation. Or the lack of meaning, thereof.

What is thready food? Celery. Of course, I've not come upon a cookbook which celebrates celery.
For that matter, doesn't seem that celery is too often highlighted in poetry. Is that your experience?

Crisp. What makes a poem crisp?

2011-08-06T17:12:00.000-07:00

The line? Image? Voice? Seasonal ripeness?

About food, it's the ripe. Same with cook. May she be mixing/blending the ripest of poems. May she be smiling.

Felt. Is there a quality of felt in a poem in which we return & return

2011-08-06T16:59:00.001-07:00

Felt. What is felt by the poem?

2011-07-29T14:54:00.000-07:00

The response of the listener. Collectively, an audience. (By the way, are there felt poems in contrast to linen, cotton, polyester, or wool poems?)

Consider how a meal is felt by those engaged in dinner conversation. Their mouths satisfied in gradations of pleasure.

Sandwich. How is a poem like a sandwich?

2011-07-29T14:51:00.000-07:00

Handcrafted. Personal. Somewhat organic. Decidedly, open-faced.

About the tangible sandwich: always (well, almost always) something green and nothing borrowed.

Stolen. What is stolen from a poem?

2011-07-29T14:48:00.000-07:00

The moment.

About food, it's what can't be stolen. Memory.

OK, same with a poem. We're at a crossroads; let's have lunch.

Hues. Are a poem's hues seasonal?

2011-07-27T13:47:00.000-07:00

Like food, it's about ripeness. Think tomatoes. They come green and red and sometimes the green are ripe just as they are. Sometimes, not. OK, yellow, too.

Perhaps, it's also about emotion and attraction.

Seriously. What is poetry, seriously?

2011-07-26T11:01:00.000-07:00

Word/sound play & construction as cooking is color/taste play & construction. The simply, seriously.

Admit. What does poetry admit to?

2011-07-25T14:18:00.000-07:00

The sound of its words including the silence and/rattle of space.

With cooking, food admits to the engery of it's ingredients and always steps up to the plate with color.