Resting

One cat & 3 peaches

resting
on
paper
resting
on
plate

paper as plate
plate as paper

Ethereal

Light & time:  ethereal.
Ethereal as the seasons -- soon there will be figs & then persimmons and
somewhat-long-gone, asparagus.

All those words forgotten, misplaced, mispoken.  And all those apt, simple words -- brimming with awe.

Dinner tonight with friends not seen for a decade.


Palpable
is
the ethereal.

Run toward what feeds you

wherever
comes
imagination
wherever
that grace
goes
may no one
be hunger
for food
for words
for hope

Butterfly

A butterfly, of sorts,
is sorrel.
An astonishing leaf.
An astonishing taste.
Raw or sauteed.
Bright for a festive,
historic weekend.
The garden is proud;
the poem unfurled
in each taste.

Bitter -- Por Vida

2 x bitter.  Here's beautiful Por Vida defaced for the second time.  With the first assult, the mural was covered with paper which the muralists removed & then they repainted the mural.  I walked by on Sunday morning to find her defiled a second time -- black paint across the faces.  Why are folks so angery/scared about equality.  Anger makes food bitter.  And life.  And for the life of me, no poems on Sunday.

Wa'akini

click on the image

Wa'akini -- the elusive bird of the imagination. Some years ago at a picnic with Ann & Michael at Marin Headlands, we saw the first Wa'akini. Ever!  We have seen a few since. Very few.

Why is it, the elusive is unforgettable.  Picnics, too.  Perhaps, poems.

Por Vida

San Francisco's Mission District is alive with murals. Amazing art. One of my go-to's is on the corner of 24th & Bryant. The huge mural on the side of the building changes frequently. Imagine these 3 images in a row. A new take on icons. I admire these murals -- nothing subtle about them.  Good food can be both subtle & strong & vibrant.  While you're gazing at this art & all the murals in the surrounding blocks, indeed take in some robust food. Indeed, Por Vida.  Words are about to flow.

Cement

I've always been struck by cement and how a concrete block can result.   No, not in the physical sense, struck.  Why cement?  Because something so solid has dings & potmarks.  Fissures and cranies to hold stories & recipies.  The occasional poem.  And this beautiful flower, alas, I have no name for her but the search is on.

Besides, her name I'm on a mission to find purslane.

And what if this were a cinder block?  The flower would not be nonplussed.

Pomegranate

Ice, as with objects in general, has a sense of humor.  Especially when paired with a pomegranate.  Even when the pomegranate is dried and is between ice & alstroemeria it holds it's own.  Imagine when it spills its seeds in a spinach salad.

Don't you think the alstroemeria (freshly picked) wishes to come forward.  That's the wisdom of editing.   Or perhaps, the call & response of objects.

Isn't it interesting, that if we check back in a year the following 3 outcomes are likely:

1)  ice won't melt;
2)  alstromeria won't wilt
3)  the pomegranate will not reinvent seeds

And certainly much will be edited -- meals & poems, in particular.  Susan & I will continue our delicious word-folly.

Visiblinks

click on image

Projects are containers and since May 28 (and running through June 27), I'm making one visiblink poem a day, using the app, SketchBook.  What's a visiblink?   It's a visual blink (poem).  I make the image & then a poem in the speed of a blink, finds the visual.  Think of the mouth finding the stuffed orange roasted pepper with rice/kale/walnuts/roasted tomatoes/oregano/pepper/cheese.

Perhaps, projects are invitations.  Meals, certainly are.

Markings

Markings

are language.
Light is language.
A dining table with stenciling is language.
Cartography is language.
Food is language.
Gesture & conversation, too.
Purring, for sure, is language.
Silence is language.
What isn't language?

 

NBF

Peering around my new best friend. Hiding behind her.  Isn't it true that our eyes reflect our friends.

A poppy reaching almost 5 feet.  Imagine that.

What's for dinner?  Something most colorful & rather showy.  To achieve balance, perhaps the next poem should be sedate.

Never.  Bring on more NBFs.