Preface to an Ontological Cookbook
For me, the cooking life has been a long love affair,
with moments both sublime and ridiculous.
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.
For now, the buzzards float
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.