The magic of shadow

and how to reflect upon it.  Similar to talking about food while eating.  Or reading a poem to get started to write a poem.  To look at a night sky and be pulled into the stars.  To look at the line of landscape and notice shadows.  Thinking about stillness in all things.

What do reading, writing, walking, cooking have in common?

every thing
and everything

Always something more to be said

"More to be said" is an act of revisiting.  This image -- a year old at least -- I'd call it "clarity up in the clouds. Or writing in the sky. Or a plate's long wait for great tomatoes." Your choice.  I've made mine -- to revisit breakfast.

When is foil compromised?

Foil
being
so easily
compromised.
So,
let me speak
of this
foil
as words
stained
by beets
roasted.
Rooted
sweetness.
And all,
a perfect
piece of jewelry
impractical
of course
as often
words
foiling
as a poem.
And let's
remember
time
is territorial
and quite so
seasonal.
And time
the timepiece
we have sported
until....

Unabashed

Spring.  Spring like asparagus is unabashed.  Cherry blossoms, too, are -- without apology -- short lived. Even light (though pressed to admit) is short lived.  And yes, light is predictable as night will speak its name.  Poems like salads, are seasonal, predictable. And if you haven't noticed -- unabashed.

Spiraling into the center of color

there is a deep and rich blankness.  Perhaps, void is the word?  And yes, the void can be any color you imagine.  This latitude of color is similar to a poem and the hue of its words.  Salads adhere to this principle, too.  Just ask an eggplant.  Or a purple cauliflower.  Or the red cabbage.

The sound of literacy

Above is a bell (celebrating literacy) from Paolo Soleri's Cosanti studios in New Mexico.  I purchased this bell decades ago and only yesterday found a perfect spot for it among stones & sprouts.

Below, is what I imagine the bell hears when someone is reading a book; recalling a recipe; writing a poem.

Night is a timepiece on color and other such things

You know, that precise moment when the evening sky knows for sure that indigo is about to happen. Or is this a fish's perspective on scales?  Or music's take on its staff?  For sure, night is a spiral of open-ended questions.  I'm thinking this image is paper as a poem is written across the dream.  Or a plate when a seasonal salad is offered upon its bones.  Or the prismatic speech of glass.  Yes, that.

Imagine the cat as an abstract painting

Yup, here he is.  haiku. At least his leg.  At the center is the rug.  OK, there's a bit of manipulation.  Can't you feel the plush fur. Cats and salads are ripe for abstraction. And both very dear in the particulars.

Don't confuse rosemary with heaven

at least the breath of heaven.  Precisely, Coleonema pulchrum --  the breath of heaven.  But speaking of rosemary, I love its breath, too.  What words smell like rosemary?  Perhaps, that's the title of a poem.  Or perhaps, it's a blink poem.  All by itself. Just like an Asian pear sliced is a blink poem of the fruit kingdom.  Your mouth agrees, doesn't it?

Fleeting

Spring is short-lived. Consider:  Daphne.  Imagine a Spring wreath of Daphne.  Delicate & aromatic. Now, think of asparagus and peas.  In my book, not much of a leap from vegetables to words.  By the way, which words are among the most fleeting?  Which words are aromatic?

Spring brings forth the hidden

So like this "salad."  What's in it?  Leftovers, of course.  You wish details?  Mahi mahi, beets both red and golden, tomatoes, Opal apples, and the hidden --  string beans.  And to finish the details -- lemon olive oil, balsamic vinegar, black pepper, fresh basil.  And yes, like with the eating of words, bring your own unique appetite.  Is there anything more Spring-like than an appetite for words?