Food Poetry: Blackberry Sage Glazed Meatballs

in the chorus of many voices

she hushes the words wanting to rise

singing her song on a final bridge

the song hovers on the tongue waiting

It will not come

but what it is reverberates

to be heard to listen

Now we hear the music

Now we must heed its melody

and wait for our turn on stage

Food Poetry: Buddhettes

The sun hides like a child

Darkness greets my lumbering

Along the linoleum floor in the kitchen

I finger my way into the yawning

And a new day brings revision

Sometimes all that remains is a single strong line

an alchemy of slackening hold

what rises in the horizon counts

counts us like grains of sand

from far off we see

but lets start at the beginning

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