Pantyhouse

A relic?   Bare legs are in.  What's a relic in poetry -- flowery language dripping in intense emotion without a slip of a smile?  And in food?  Foods come and go speaking of Michelangelo.

Smoked dates

Yes, smoked.  Stuffed with goat cheese & walnuts on a bed of balsamic vinegar  -- all warm and quite confident in taste & texture.  A model for a fine poem, I'd say.   Why?  Because the taste is unmistakeable, balanced, and unusual.  All the elements work without strain.

Wedding cake

Frosted and hyper-sweet is the wedding cake. Tasted or untasted.  Rarely anything but white.  Some poetry is also over-the-top sweet and sugary.  I avoid both as I ask, why a wheel of brie didn't become the traditional cake of union?

Sweatbreads

Rarely does your dining partner know from which part of the body come sweetbreads.  Rarely does your dining partner know much about line breaks and why they excite you.

Soft and hard -- commingle.

Occasion

On an occasion an occasional poem is writ to honor, celebrate, commemorate.
On an occasion certain foods are entertained.  Often with toasting.  Words keep an eye on food.

Once I called myself a food-friendly poet.

I still am.

Mushrooms

Certain words which sound mushy are not.  The same is true of particular foods.  Sit back and name all the mushrooms you can.  You are so close to a poem, you can almost taste it.

Sprocket

Where is the sprocket in a poem and what is being moved forward?  Letters as teeth.  Every poem is tastable.  

Of course, garlic is the sprocket that moves taste forward.

There you have it -- poetry, garlic, and sprocket.  Who knew?