Earth rises over lunar scape
cell divides again and again
cosmic dusts travel
billions of miles long
there is no time
to explain this
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dVerse prompt on time
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On Writing
Monarch Migration
I hurried
from five blocks down the street
equipped with a jar
and father’s fishnet
so much orange
was more than I expected that August day
the white of milkweed in the field
fluttered with brilliance of orange
a cluster of milkweed and butterflies
two or three
clung to a single stem
while some rode others
on their backs
sun upon their wings
and few would fly
as they sucked a clover flower
I stood and picked
as though they were poppies
to fill my jar
and only when
next to the coolness of glass
did those wings start to pound
No More Liver and Onions
I swore this would not turn into a food blog. My second thoughts and the idea of serving a cookie for breakfast and baked in the reality that I have always sifted the thought of writing a cookbook since meeting my former and present husband, Greg, who taught me how to cook liver and onions. If that sounds like a run-on sentence it probably is, and so also is the desire to be a good cook and to write about it.
The liver and onions is not a metaphor, it was one of Greg’s prime dishes. The sweet aroma of sautéed onions waffling up in the BOQ, followed by the immergence of thin, fleshy organ meat, all cooking away in a cast iron skillet. That was the start of my desire to conquer the art of cooking and relationships. I studied it. I wanted to make it work. I even tried oxtail but to no avail. People sent recipe books for wedding presents so I did have help.
We stewed our lives together in a do-it-yourself house with two children, several dogs and a cat. My skills improved. The heat of the cast iron skillet still on the stove, melts the butter, and I am free to throw in the ingredients, some that cook fast and a few that refine themselves very slowly creating an irresistible taste.
wait for the moment
stepping out of the kitchen
to eat a cookie
Press
set type spread ink
upside down backwards thin layer on the plate
use space ink rollers
know pica choice of paper
composing stick pull heavy handle
lay of the nick does all the work
what to say printed word
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dVerse prompt to write a contrapuntal poem – read three ways – column one read down – column two read down – read across each line
In My Dream
In my dream I am swimming again
Through the air
But this time
The air feels like water
It has substance
I can get a hold on it
And move forward
Monday Muddle
Here’s what to do when you haven’t a clue
and find yourself stuck in a muddle
It’s been raining all day but that’s okay
go outside and play in a puddle
If that doesn’t send confusion away
forget it find something to cuddle
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dVerse prompt on “muddle” quadrille
Writer’s Block
Have writer’s block? Don’t know where to start? Write anything even if you have to write the same thing over and over again. Even if you have to write the same thing over and over again. Even if you have to write the same thing over and over again.
Poem made from the writer’s block writing:
Don’t block
Write
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NaPoWriMo prompt a day late but I had writer’s block
