Ordinary

treasures
abound in the kitchen
as stars
come earthbound
which is to say
stars are practical
& oddly sometimes
porous & not always
where you expect
to find them
& as every cook knows
poems benefit
from a colander

Masks

Sometimes a mask is worth a thousand poems.  

Sometimes a meal is worth a thousand tongues.

Trio

Trio with elbow

wine & caramel 3-ways
& a candle, lit
a table is the space
of celebration
as paper for poem.
I'm thinking tables
like poems are never truly
impersonal.  Notice
in the upper left-hand corner,
the elbow of Ann.

Guess

what?

Raw & ready for shelling.  Fine to saute.

Green garbanzo beans.

Next to asparagus, the closest approximation of Spring.

Now, think of poetry.  Is there a shell that should be removed before tasting?

& what is it about glass plate or bowl which smittens the ripe?

Heel

And what of bread?

Bread makes me think of poetry and how a heel in a poem might be akin to a line break.

On your birthday, don't break a heel!

Thanks, Logan.

Thanks, Malisa.

Thanks, Gabriel.

Dyed

Ink, hair, and food have this one word in common.

Take a single beet.
Raw.  Dice into small jewels.
Saute in walnut oil with a shallot.
When cooked, add pitted black olives, walnuts.
Toss with cooked shells & cooked shrimp.
Top with fresh basil.  Pepper, of course.

Before you leave home, brush your hair.
Be sure the pen has plenty, ink.

Broken

Eggs are meant to be broken (or boiled) and then broken.

Lines in poems will in some measure, break.

Cups are meant to be whole; otherwise they cannot hold tea.

Alas.

And time, you ask. Time is a sum of fragments.  Ah, fragments such a gentle way of looking at the broken.