Tasting: Poems

Too soon, perhaps, for fruit. And the broad branches, ice-sheathed early, may bear none. But still the woman waits, with her ladder and sack, for...

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live. The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on...

Our shells clacked on the plates. My tongue was a filling estuary, My palate hung with starlight: As I tasted the salty Pleiades Orion dipped...

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet...

How easily happiness begins by dicing onions. A lump of sweet butter slithers and swirls across the floor of the sauté pan, especially if its...