Chef salad. How is a Cs akin to provisional poetry?

First, let's define Chef salad. Left to the cook's whim & larder, a Chef salad does not need to include chicken or turkey or roast beef. In fact this morning here's what this cook presented:

baby lettuces
Santa Rosa plums
Persian cucumber
queso blanco
walnuts
shelled pistachios
fresh basil
olive oil
a generous splash of soy
pepper

So to get back on point. A Chef salad is finished when the chef says so. It may not have the look and taste of something academic. Provisional poetry speaks of and to the same language. Necessity.

Hand-crafted pizza. How is an H-CP a paradigm for editing a poem?

The ingredients are at your fingertips. For a poem this means the alphabet and all the sounds which it creates. For last night's hand-crafted pizza a fiesta of leftovers including sauteed Crimini & white mushrooms, fennel, roasted garlic, cheddar, fresh lemon thyme, pepper, olive oil, small flatbread. Baked @ 400 degrees. Cut with scissors and arrange the slices on a bed of organic lettuces.


Sipping red wine, you know when the editing works, an arrangement of leftovers. You can hear it; you can taste it. Yummy.

Edamame. What do edamame and haiku have in common?

Surprisingly, more that size. A weighted compactness. Of course, there's the ah-ha moment when the edamame is shelled and morsels popped into the mouth. Seasonal reference? It's in the genes.

Cobb salad. How is the Cobb salad quite like a Shakespearean sonnet?

Both are inventions to beguile the tongue.

The Cobb has almost 14 ingredients: Boston lettuce, Romaine, watercress, chives, bacon, eggs, Roquefort, chicken or turkey, avocado, Brown Derby's Old French Dressing which includes sufficient ingredients to swell the number to 14.

Both depend upon the eloquence of a line.

Make a Cobb (in honor of Robert Howard Cobb) and re-read Shakespeare's sonnets and contemplate whether William's wife wrote them. No doubt, she did the cooking.

Tuna fish casserole. Is Tfc a poetic form?

For five months we've explored poetic terms and forms. (Did she mean exploited?) Now we'll turn attention to foods and how they relate to poetry. Or how they don't.

Yesterday, a humongous bowl of tuna fish pasta salad was placed on the table by a poetic hand. This gesture of hospitality invoked the memory of tuna fish casserole with cream of mushroom soup. Simply, some foods are more epic than ku. Perhaps, Tfc is akin to bombastic language.

Kindly weigh-in on this matter and hold the mayo.

Color. What is your favorite color in a poem?

A bright hue or subdued? Perhaps, matte? Does it depend upon the mood of the hearer? Definitely, the emotional disposition of the poet comes to play.



Food is a palette of light and ensuing color. No one sees precisely the same. Nor tastes.

Bouts Rimes. Is poetry a game of rhyme and syllable?

Ah, how the French sport. Turning poetry into game and contest. In a parlor, sort of way. Unlike a slam. Both valuable.


Cooking with celebrity chefs is pure slamming,isn't it. Knives ready: go!