Forelle

Petite pears.  Speckled red.
A blink poem in the making.
In the tasting.  

Wood

on wood.  A wooden
spoon on a wooden
cutting board.
Simple,
practical
& necessary
as rain.
Now,
imagine
a pen
resting
on paper.

Litany

The kitchen is made for cooking
the ear for words
the street for eyes,
grateful.

Bernal Heights on a rainy Saturday 

Poisonous

 Brugmansia.

Poisonous flowering plants.
Fragrant.  Known as angel's trumpets.

Beware of beauty & fragrance.
Beware of what you place in your mouth.
Beware of what you put to paper.
But take it all in -- hungerly.
& listen
to your ear
to your mouth.

Chayote

What a gift to discover food.  Chayote squash.  Mild, sweet. Raw or sauteed.

Chayote with shrimp, sliced persimmons, sauted red onion, Asian pear, with basil, black pepper, olive oil.

Chayote pear in foreground
Fuyu persimmons in background.

A poem is both foreground & background, wouldn't you say?

Relax

haiku 

Let someone else do the laundry.  Let someone else worry about where the next non sequitur will come from.  Whether the next sack of persimmons will be sweet.  Whether the avocado will be firm or darkend and mushy.  Whether the words in a poem will coalesce as only the ripe can.

Whether weather will be fit for sleep.  

Location

Looking toward downtown San Francisco from Fort Point

My Mom used the prase "location, location" as code that a house was lovely but where it was built, lacked.

Unlike to the right, where clouds are finely situated.  And the rocks, too.  As well situated as that particular word set in a poem.  As a persimmon in a salad.

Location is in the eye, in the ear, in the taste.