kitchen.

there is no recipe in my head
behind large pots and
clanging water
frothing, boiling, tumbling
in a sea
my murky mess
smiling in a steaming kitchen.
Cinnamon in the air
lungs clogged of wheat, sweat
kneading pain out
bones. Frightened by the silent
alive
whispering, searing
tattoo love
hot sugar sound.
hands and hokus potions
pinch of this and a
slap of that
flour lips    stick
on my neck.
LICK    lick   tips of fingers
lick     mouth     slow     salt     sweet
recipe for what    i
don't know.

25 september 1994.

Comments

[gramps]

Perfect!!!!!!

[Monkey Wrangler]

VERY
very
most wonderfully
very

nice

I look forward to the next round of kitchen poi-tré.

Thanks for coming on by today. I've written out a list of sheer knowledge dispensed. How quickly the page fills with ink....my head is now officially full.
The monkey sends her best (she's still at the "beach")

Chow, from the flourdusteverywhereranch

[Dave]

It's a combination of reasons, Shuna. Lately I've been so busy I've hardly had time to write in my own blog.