What is the correlation of shape with food and poetry?

Consider, pasta. What food has more variety of shapes? Except, perhaps, the alphabet which is another genre of food. From food and alphabet come poetry. Yup.

How are soups and poetry related?

What could be more intimate. Making soup. Making a poem. Without much of a recipe to go on the results nourish & delight. Soup is play-making at its most practical. Poetry, too. Soups can startle as much as a poem -- all to the good. And the spoon of the cook as visible of the pen of the poet.

What don't blueberries and poems have in common?

Let's begin with what they do share. Color and sometimes shape. Yes, there are round poems.

Poems can (and one might argue should) be edited.
Ah, how to edit a blueberry? Perhaps blended in yogurt or baked as muffin or bread. Yes, how to edit the seasonal when it should be but isn't ripe?

To an unripe poem, let it sit on the sill of page. Or recycle. Begin again. And again.

How is poetry like the meal you enjoyed last night?

Out of necessity comes food; comes words.
Some foods enliven.
Some words inspire.
Some foods, quirky.
Some words, peculiar.
Some appetites insatiable.
Some words hunger for themselves.

When soup turns red, what color does the poem turn?

Red, of course. However, this is color as signifier. Returning to soup, add a few rough-cut cooked beets (mixed red & yellow -- heavenly), say to chicken soup. Miracles abound in the shape of color. Yes, color is shape as much as the spiral embraces with equality positive and negative. Remember, beets are a root. Poetry is the root of speech. May they both be necessary & color-luscious. May they bring peace.

Which words accompany today's lunch?

Word Salad # 1,777 (or so) masquerading as Minimalist Epic # 1,777 (or so)

farro
golden beets
plum tomatoes
almonds
spinach
orange olive oil
pepper & flowers

here's the twist -- put the spinach leaves on top. Why?

Because the unexpected should be realized. Needs to be celebrated.

Is there such a thing as a blank page...

when the mouth is involved?

The short answer: doubtful. Longer response: very doubtful. An empty bowl doesn't wish to stay that way forever. A full bowl remembers with affection nothing but air and the passing hand. A fountain pen remembers the refill. The empty ink cartridge remembers parts of the journey, at times brilliantly & complete -- down to the word-architecture.

In terms of inspiration, which comes first, food or poetry?

Inspiring what? A poem? Or a meal? Or both? Perhaps inseparable as inspiration & the outcome. And if there isn't an outcome? Perhaps, all to the good. Time to feed yourself. But with what or who?

Cooking is accomplished both indoors and outdoors. Is the same true of poetry?

Yup. Just as cooking & eating can be done indoors or outdoors, sitting or walking, so can poetry. Phrases for poems are written somewhere in the body as walking occurs. We usually say "head" but who really knows if it isn't the elbows or kneecaps which do the heavy lifting while in poetry-mode?

Poems are comprised (in English) from 26 letters. If the same were true in cooking, what would those 26 ingredients be?

black pepper
olive oil
olives
garlic
onions
lemon
herbs, various
shrimp
greens, especially spinach & kale & rainbow chard
carrots
tomatoes
wine
eggs
soy sauce
salmon
string beans
asparagus
mangoes
bananas
apples
dates
cheese (all)
bread, especially French
crackers
chicken
nuts (all)
beets
mushrooms
peaches
pears
persimmons
potatoes
rices & grasses (as in wildrice)
corn
edamame
pasta
duck
avocado
sushi
sashimi
soups/stews


you didn't think I'd forget mussels & oysters?


clearly with cooking, the alphabet expands to fit the taste

What is the accent of color in a poem equivalent to mint?

Something bright. Spring-ly green. That new shoots-green. In poetry freshness. A clarity in which the mouth hums. Or whistles the word forth?

What do farmer's markets & poetry have in common?

Their structure. They can be seen & read as singular. Both can be enjoyed as a community. Community? You know, an anthology. For what is a farmer's market if not a compilation that one dips in and out of with French plums in her hand. (Well, soon those glorious plums will appear in the markets). Poetry, on the other hand, delivers ripe fruit regardless of season. Imagine that!

What kinship do favorite recipes and the not-quite-finished poem share?

Reclaiming the almost forgotten. Updating,in the case of favorite recipes. Editing, the poem. Sometimes, there are more than one poem. Sometimes, side dishes in place of an entree.

What is the correlation between the number of ingredients in a dish and the number of words in a poem?

Simple, really. Depends upon who is cooking and what is being cooked. Depends upon who is writing the poem. And with cooking & poetry-making, depends upon a deadline (real or perceived).

In addition much depends upon the physical dish or plate engaged in this dance. Also, the size of paper -- loose or in a notebook.

The market doesn't carry what you went there for. Does this dissapointment flow into the next poem you write?

Yes, if you don't love mixing up the unexpected. Yes, if you don't love substitutes. Yes, if you don't believe leftovers are the best food possible, and the refrigerator deserves such gems.

Last night, no mussels to be bought. The refrigerator (or when no one is listening -- icebox) contained string beans. Well, there you have it. This is the house of many pens; of much fruit.

Who says, string beans & sushi are perfectly matched?

Thus, disappointment kept at arms-length from the poem edited this morning.

How do string beans relate to poetry?

This is personal. I have a renewed loved of string beans (those petite ones, slightly undercooked). Served room temperature with mango, nuts, strawberries, avocado, olive oil, black pepper, and any fresh herbs at hand. A splash of soy sauce is nice.

Nice, but how does this relate to poetry? Certain words return to me with humor or memory -- sweet and/or poignant. Perhaps a few words that someone I know (knew?) frequently used, almost a calling card.

A glass bowl with beguiling color, the contents of which slightly askew and a sweet/poignant memory. A pen nearby.