Preface to an Ontological Cookbook

 

For me, the cooking life has been a long love affair, 

with moments both sublime and ridiculous. 

—Anthony Bourdain 

 

It may be that hunger and love

Are twins from the same Mother—

An eternal longing to lull our lack.

And the presence of an absence

Is the recurring attack of history.

To be struck by such fictions or facts

Is a recipe beyond all reverie & endurance:

As you step back to your private kitchen

Where no snack can bring assurance. 

 


It’s Inevitable

 

For now, the buzzards float

Counterclockwise 

In a sky of exceptional blue.

But the inevitable

Shall come to pass:

A carcass and a rendezvous. 



Take It All Off, Slowly

 

Some leaves are the color of lust,

Or speckled gold & burnt sienna.

The spectacle of Fall is a carnival:

Bold flashes among the branches

In this sun-freckled fiesta of autumn.

The aspens turn & then they shimmer,

As the leaves peel off like garments—

Flung at the feet of a stripper.