Saturday, June 1, 2013

five kitchen poems

between the carrots
and the kohlrabi
I paint
my secret life blood-red
with the juice of beets       

poems to eat 
on the grocery list
I let the toast
go up in smoke

the thwack
of a cherry pitter
missing half the pits
my desire in life
to do one thing well

new-laid eggs
bobbing in cool water . . .
I rub the dross
from my poems

all morning
reading tanka—
my compost bin
heaped with pineapple,
strawberry, mango, rose

Atlas Poetica 13, Fall 2012

1 comment:

  1. For anyone who wondered, the space aliens in the photo are kohlrabi from my garden.