Monday, July 30, 2012

Dahlias. Who said, "Dahlias are the showy heart of a poem?"

I did at 10:58 AM today.

White ones in a crystal vase. The candle nearly spent. And later a clear glass bowl filled with fresh sliced peaches, queso fresco, small grape tomatoes, fresh basil, olive oil, pepper, almonds, and black olives. Perhaps, diced avocado, as well.

1 comment:

  1. Mts

    You are beseeched to hum along lest the song ends too soon. All that was will ever be if she teethes the bone at noon. So far the story goes nowhere and yet the pages are turned. All too frequent the outbursts, her laughter--once a crystal vase,--now pierces the cold ennui.

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