this side of the river, religious mendicant charmer, that soon ripens, cut in the season of dew, like a collyrium, black stains on the…
No one buys tickets to a poem, or picks the choice seat on row F, No one takes a date to a poem, no…
The world is blue at its edges and in its depths. This blue is the light that got lost. – Rebecca Solnit … As…
Neither the risen dough, or the plush Square with its savory load, drip Of marmalade or butter—I want the morsel, The plate peppered with…
I’m having a fling – a summer romance with rhubarb. That day in June when I first glimpsed it reclining on a bed of…
Let the cold red planet slowly orbit the olive oil lake in the center of the plate ringed with sea salt. Elaine Equi is…
for Stacey Harwood We are not used to thinking food has a past. Of its picaresque travels – its days of being manhandled, its…
It didn’t take me long to fall for you what the ethereal eye beholds in ascension half moon crescent earth O media luna de…
. . . but the promise of a moment of spices luxurious uncontainable how will i remember your embrace? how will i remember your…