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.