american lasagna

she showed up unannounced
with a brown bag of groceries

took off her coat and scarf
before turning the oven on

and scrounging around
for all the right utensils

"i assumed you'd have eggs"
she said, taking two from the fridge

she browned meat with fresh garlic
let sauce simmer on the stove

grated cheeses and boiled pastas
and piled the lot into a large square pan

and while it cooked in the oven
she cleaned up the mess

without introducing herself
she instructed us

to take the foil off the lasagna
when the timer sounded

and let it cook until the cheese bubbled up

she kissed me on the cheek,
passed me a clean spatula

and left through the back door
putting her coat on as she went.

swat tea

the swat team, scheduled to infiltrate
a house on circuit road south,

ended up taking tea with a sweet old lady
at a house on circuit road north.

the gingerbread house

offerings of fancy

off the ship, he greeted her
with offers of red currents
and baby pears anjou

but could not convince
this lady in extravigant green
to take him in for the night

bright october theme

despite the vanilla beans
floating in your tea

like satellites in negative polaroid
mimicking the freckles on your ear

all of my energy is negative
slow and unforgiving

the churn in my stomach is wretched
digging deep beyond my enthusiasm

for sweets flavored with fruits
and nutmeg and thyme and brown sugar

new unconditional behavior

NEW UNCONDITIONAL BEHAVIOR

what happened to the rain?
it never stopped bleeding into your shirt
and developing patterns of density
in the process

i knew communication by connection

you filtered black tea the last decent attempt of the open mind had dried around the radio's death on common broadcast so, but the problem is you're empty is not necessarily my cup, unless of course we were taking it seriously, no longer a subjective ceremony locked in at each other's reach of groceries cold cuts and an honorable intention you stated plainly stated from wild mushroom profit of independent cold mushroom

and leeks factor Rome out without. when is the non-violence you promised me when ring-rusted followers hassled / gouged / gallow-ed we, that celebrity cat-nap you paid for us. and you came home with a perfect recipe for hope. ask for your question -- why, one night your cup will be full, and steaming an irreverable place and at your finger tips

 

**** a rewrite of hardy's

NEVER KNEW UNCONDITIONAL BEFORE

What happened to Jainism?
I even stopped eating butterflies for you
and developed a pattern deficiency
in the process

new connections in communication

You fed me black pills th last dedicate after the Odepus had died down in a radio death common broadcast no, but th problem is your fucked is not necessarily my fucked, unless of course we are fucking, no longer a subjective ceremony looked at each other Carrying groceries cold hands As an h intellectual I stated plainly stated they wld much prefer independent cold mouths

and locks actorCome out white. Where is this non-violence you promised me were Warsaw flowers astle / cottage / gallows We, that celebate dog-sleep you pland for us. and you came home w/ a perfect man named Job. As for your question -- Yes, one day you will be fucked, and sharing an internal space and on your face

it's october tomorrow!

would wife

as a girl she held imaginary tea parties
dressing all her dolls and teddy bears
in their very best attire

she grew long and beautiful and so did her dreams
of hosting parties for princesses
in palaces in far away places

today she offers you tea and a choice
of biscuits or cake from her stash
kept in tins behind the olive oil in the top cupboard

and if you asked her to marry you
she would probably accept
if you promised her a tea party themed wedding

others' poetry

i asked some friends on facebook to recommend a poem for me to read.  as much as i like to write the odd poem, i also like to read the stuff.  it acts as inspiration, not just for writing new poems, but inspiration in the day-to-day mobility of life. 

right now, my need for poetry is out of need for comfort.  my left arm is very soar, painful even.  i am going to see my doctor this afternoon to find out what is wrong with me, or at least how to make some of the pain go away.  in addition to physical pain, i am emotionally compromised at the moment, which poetry is very good at helping heal.  my zune, neil, died last night after almost three years of friendship.  i listened to him in the car, in bed, while baking, while walking.  now my music listening is confined to my laptop (my car cd player is broken, and i can't stand radio). 

enough moaning.

my friends suggested these poems so far:

as the sparrow by Charles Bukowski
frost at midnight by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
in the trees by Dan Miller
and
holy sonnets x. by John Donne


so i thought i'd share them with you too.

the pagoda forest

red pandas laze in pink-pine trees
among inhabited bird houses

unpainted and weather worn
they were put up in bunches

ripe strawberries hatch from their roots
surrounding a calm, circular pond

where grey dirt turns to mud
and sticks to shoes like paste

you'll see a red and golden pagoda
floating aimlessly over the water

waiting patiently to be mounted
by bold visitors to this sacred place

augie the bird

augie was an orange talking bird
with bright blue feet with three long toes each

he talked a lot of nonsense
but was ever the affectionate one

until one day he met a large chinese family
while out at the movies with me

and left to spend his days
in the company of his new friends

and that, augie, broke my heart.

josh missed ryan

ryan's coworker and office mate, josh, got a little lonely while ryan was away for two weeks...

England Trip

ryan and i just got home from a very relaxing stay in england where our main purpose of going (and main reason for going when we did) was to meet our new niece Leila May...

we spent most of our time in and around Derby with the exception of a day in london town where we went on the Dr Who Experience (thank you Kerry!) and got to see a few seriously awesome TARDIS sets including the entire 9th Doctor's TARDIS

and Ryan got to geek over his first doctor's TARDIS console ^__^

while in london, we met up with our friend Johnny.

in his company, we hit up the Hummingbird Bakery on Portobello Rd and the Laudree store in the Burmingham Arcade.

finally, we found ourselves on baker street (the real one) as well as the filming location from BBC's Sherlock.

the day after our adventure to london, we hiked north to Wilmslow/Manchester to go bowling with Leila (which despite her expression in the picture, she actually loved)

then caught up with Dave at pizza co. and later with matt.  dave, pictured below, appears to have died his hair to match the label of his favorite soda...

other than those two days we spent our time hanging out in Derby.  we did a little shopping and a lot of wondering around and taking pictures of ourselves with kinder surprise...

we did manage to catch up with a few more friends while were in Derby.  ryan caught up with littleover friend Aman and we went out for a very nice indian with Joe and his fiancee Nadia (not a flattering photo, i'll admit)

and rounding off our trip, we spent a day with Lynn on the Cannock Chase on a beautiful 6 ish mile hike filled with all sorts of charming wildlife.

off to england tomorrow

going to meet Leila, our niece (!!!).  going to eat jelly babies.  going to drink tea.  going to walk through christopher eccleston's TARDIS! and going to relax.  a lot.

the first night (a drabble)

m followed c home from the art gallery. they had a private after-party on the couch. the neighbors could hear them, but couldn't make out the words. the neighbors couldn't hear m asking c if he could stay. the neighbors couldn't hear c tell m how she found him handsome. the neighbors could hear them laughing together. the private after-party was going well, and went on until morning. m woke up first. he found the kitchen. he found the kettle and made tea for the pretty girl asleep in the other room. c let him stay for a long time. 

odd confession

i had a little wart on my right pointer finger.  last weekend, it changed color from white to brown.  the skin started to flake around it, and now it's gone.  i didn't put anything on it or treat it with anything.  about six months ago i had a little cluster of warts near this last one that i used wart band-aids to remove, but i somehow doubt that the band-aids have had some sort of residual effects. 

there are a couple of things that may have caused the little wart to go away.  i have started taking my multi vitamin and iron supplements regularly again, though that would have made my warts go away when i took them before, wouldn't it?  i have started drinking green tea instead of black (to avoid caffeine because it makes my eyelid twitch, and to avoid the milk i usually have in my tea because it gives me a stomach ache).  i have also started consuming infinite more amounts of balsamic vinegar and olive oil since i started working at Gustare.  maybe one or a combination of these dietary changes has had an impact?

i have also started running even more.  maybe i sweat my wart off?

strawberries

ryan and i joined the Coonamessett Farm this year, which meant i got to go pick strawberries a few weeks ago (extra good because giovanni, the bunny in our yard, ate my potted strawberry!)...

summer means lobster

it's been a crazy summer so far, what with the selling of olive oils, weight watchers and all the macaron baking i've been doing.  so i've neglected my blog a little.  ryan and i did find time to celebrate my very american holiday this weekend with some delicious lobster on Monday night, followed by even more delicious-er lobster truffle macaroni and cheese tonight. 

strawberry season is upon us

it's a bit deformed, a bit pale looking, but it is a strawberry nonetheless.  more picture updates to follow as we watch this little guy grow.

compare and contrast

they sat. their feet poking out from under the blanket. they both have tanned feet, but his toes are hairy where hers are soft and ticklish. they chose the same favorite superhero as their favorite, but desire different powers were they to be given out. he wants to fly, she wants to breath under water.  breakfast is both their favorite meal of the day, but he takes his toast with coffee, and she with tea.  they both like butter, but one of them prefers it unsalted.  he wants a girl, she wants a boy.  but they both agree to wait.

the little red sofa

a big-eyed calico is curled up on the little red sofa with her head propped up on one of the checkered pillows as if she were a little person.  dreaming sweetly, her black and pink padded toes twitch and flick.  she is dreaming of discovering new planets made entirely of pretty colored ribbons and fluffy mice with ears that are easily torn off in play.  there are no other cats to compete for the ribbons, but there is a dog, barking and thundering towards her.  she runs, ribbons flowing freely behind her and under her paws as she runs away. 

jack and i got some flowers

 

rowdy vs the awesome tomato

day fourteen drabble - "Blank Pages"

i was planning valentine's cards for friends who'd sent Christmas cards when March came creeping up behind me.  these cards for friends who'd sent cards became St. Patrick's day when all of a sudden it is the end of May.  the table is still covered in heart shaped stamps and purple ink pads.  some friends have moved or changed their names, so the addresses are beginning to expire.  i've forgotten who i've written to already and who is still waiting for a holiday reply.  looking back, then, i see that all the pages inside all the cards are still blank.

breakfast over bets

in his vision she wore her hair down
an over sized flannel shirt hid her model form

he awoke to the smell of corn bread and coffee
the sizzle of red vegetables from the stove top

alongside the slow cooked birth of an omelet
at 8am on a Wednesday morning in Pasadena

a beauty manifest in his kitchen unexpectedly
cooking him a desert king's breakfast

her dark skin seemed light by the color of her hair
her eyes fell sweetly on his despite her people's rage

"where'd you find that?" the only question
mustered out of suprise, "and how did you get in?"

he pointed at the french coffee press on the table
steeping full with a heavy, black columbian brew

"it was in the closet. it was in a vase box."
she spoke, carefully folding the omelet over in the pan

"when did you get here, how did you get in,
how did you even find my house and ..."

she raised a hand and a plate to him
"all these questions" she paused, he sat.

"there is something i came here for.
do you have something to tell me?" her neck seemed long

"yes" he avoided her gaze
she poured him a coffee

"are you going to tell me?"
"no" he replied, sure that this was still a dream

and further sure as the coffee he sipped
was the best he'd ever had

and faded up into waking life
alone in his big house

part 2

the real girl, the real affection
told him that she's in love with him

he had another dream.

day thirteen drabble - dirty laundry

lights, darks, heavy or delicate.  it doesn't matter.  he can navigate baskets full of dirty laundry with ease and prowess, down multiple flights of stairs.  carpeted or not, no terrain is off limits and no obstacle too great. he knows the way from memory.  he's taken this route so many times.  from the bedroom to the basement and back again. 

when the alarm sounds, he calls for his crew to reform and make wake for the dryer.  the urgency of his captain call, a manifestation of his concern for tee shirts and towels that wrinkle when left too long unattended.

keeping up with drabbles

hello darlings,

as you may have noticed, i have been trying to write a drabble a day in the month of May. and in case you didn't notice, today is the 23rd day in May, and i've only written some 14 drabbles. it's more like a drabble every other day in the month of may. not quite as catchy.

i am not giving up, but i am also not sure i will catch up. you see, i have been working very hard helping my weight watchers members lose weight, selling olive oil and balsamic vinegar to gustare guests, and baking hundreds (not an exaggeration, note) of tasty macarons in preparation for an Artisans' Fair coming up THIS WEEKEND.

with all that going on, i am pretty darn proud of myself for having written anything this month. my blog has been void of poetry for far too long. maybe i should start reading it again, but i doubt i will just yet. things are still busy. i barely keep up with the day-to-day grind of housekeeping and kitty care (though they are very good at reminding me when the litter needs to be changed or their food bowls need to be filled).

so this little post here is not a bow-out, but a disclaimer (more to myself than anyone else). i may not write a drabble every day, but this little exercise has been rewarding, fun, inventive and laborious all at the same time. i love it.

maybe there isn't poetry on the immediate horizon, but there are certainly more drabbles. i hope you enjoy them.

day twelve drabble - apples

she drove him away from the city. his wife of two years was taking him to see something, but refused to tell him what it was, or where they were going. whatever it was, she was excited about it. very excited.

he'd been away with work for seven weeks. she was surprising when he was home every day, he couldn't begin to imagine what she'd arranged while he was gone.

he expected a picnic, a totem pole, a landlocked boat, or some secret fort in the woods.

“what do you think?”

she bought an apple orchard. he hadn’t expected that.

day eleven drabble - space wrecked

got shot down by a weapons experiment. unlicensed. unclassified. just off orbit of a water planet. unfortunate. mermaids can be hostile. luckily she crashed on a floating island. tough spot though. no chance of rescue. not a chance in the galaxy. so she kept her cool. mirrored sunglasses and elbow batched pilot jacket fashioned perfectly for keeping one's cool demeanor. but it's not easy to keep your cool, alone on a floating island in the middle of a water planet, for forty six long years. getting old. hunting birds with a slingshot. getting sick on strange fruit. collecting other survivors.

day ten drabble - buttercream

first, a specific amount of butter. measured. removed from its plastic paper. mixed thoroughly. by fork or paddle attachment. into a specific amount of very fine sugar. white and easily dispersed. yields a very specific texture. much unlike one ingredient used to make it. much like the other. then, when heavy whipping cream is added. another measured amount. and the slightest amount of vanilla. drops of strong extract. the texture and flavor morphs. still much unlike one ingredient or three. into a white dream. cloudy and sweet. colored to match the occasion. they say, it's the frosting on the cake.

day nine drabble - emperor of soft

when he first came here to live with us, we placed him on our soft bed. he liked that. he liked that the floor was soft too. where he used to live, there was only one soft place (inside an antique baby crib).

since then, more than four years ago now, he still seeks out the softest spots. the sofa. the fuzzy blanket on the sofa. the fluffy sweatshirt on the fuzzy blanket on the sofa. you get the idea.

he loves to sleep on soft things. who doesn't?

but he has yet to find anything as soft as him.

drabble day eight - the fortress

made of scrap metal and drift wood, the fortress is stronger than it looks. it was made with love and wood glue. brown birds protect the nooks and disparate corners. inside there are treasures disguised as toys and trunks of costumes worn by little pirates on rainy thursday evenings. the shoes are too big, of course, but the brown birds don't seem to mind. occasionally, to avoid the rain, the brown birds leave their corners to play dress up with the little pirates and hide away their secret treasures. brown birds must be careful, though, little pirates are easily angered.

day seven drabble - "Thoughts in Black and White"

"do you want room for milk?" asked the barista, regarding the level of water rising around the bag of earl grey.

this, you consider, a trivial attitude towards something of great importance.

"yes, please" you reply with equal nonchalance.

the barista interprets your reply as uncaring. this is someone, after all, whose trade is hot drink, of which milk plays a vital part.

at the milk and sugar kiosk, your thoughts are drawn out by the stream of white milk. then drawn even further by your neighbor's black coffee as it swirls in revolt against the cream being poured unscrupulously.

day six drabble - voice

a deep, dastardly and debonair voice projects its way over the intercom on the dashboard of a 25th century wreck. it comes in sputters. the sound waves blurred by years of unattended atrophy amidst the dark space between planets and asteroids. his message is lost, but important. it repeats on a loop until someone deciphers it. the computer on board the old, abandoned wreck pieces together the sputters and spurts of the message. it may have taken years, and it may be too late, but the message has finally been deciphered.

a lone voice, lost in the depths of space.

day five drabble - floating

a blue house with purple shutters that actually close is floating through space. the shutters are kept open so the cats that live inside the house can see the stars and planets as they drift by one after another after another. they name the planets after long lost friends of theirs and keep records of each one in a diary with dates and drawings that all look exactly the same.

on days when they pass no new planets, they draw imaginary ones in the same diary. reading the diary one would think these cats passed a new planet every day.

day four drabble - the wet planet

there is an undiscovered planet circling a yellow star at the precipice of the milky way galaxy. a planet as green and blue with oceans as our own. dozens of small islands float across the waters, loose and untamed. each island is home to unique creatures and botany.

these islands are few and hard to find, but the life beneath the surface is full and plenty with mermaids and their suitors. whales and dolphins sing shanties to the annoyance of the crabs and other grumpy shellfish. starfish and octopus dance for food. waves tell stories of battles and awesome parties.

day three drabble - multiplex

jack lives on the second floor of a cardboard multiplex. made out of boxes previously occupied by an air conditioner, a kitchenaid standing mixer, and a selection of extreme hot sauces found for sale only online.

the sign on the second floor reads "casa del gatos".

jack sleeps on top of his second floor multiplex apartment, on the roof. it's starting to cave in just so. so jack, be careful rolling around on your multiplex roof.

jack lives in the multiplex. but on cold nights, jack finds it more comfortable to snuggle with the people on the soft green duvet.

day two drabble - let's agree to be perfect

the handsome blond boy behind the counter of the cafe has a perfect smile. the perfect accompaniment to a tea latte. who smiles like that at eight in the morning? other than angels and baristas, that is. and me, right back at the handsome blond boy behind the counter of the cafe.

the pretty freckled girl scanning groceries at the market has a perfect smile. the perfect accompaniment to a stash of mini tangerines. she knows the latin names of all the fruits, herbs and cheeses. why bother remembering latin when no one speaks it anymore? alia angelorum and cashiers.

day one drabble - in from the rain

Devon’s Volvo broke down on Red Clay Road outside an old house. a light shown through the kitchen window. rain soaked through his coat and shoes in the short distance from the car to the house.

a young woman answered his knock and let him in out of the rain.

she dried his clothes, fed him mini tangerines from California, brewed him a pot of loose leaf tea, and let him fall in love with her one awkward smile at a time.

by morning the rain had cleared. the car was towed. and they both knew the words to “Suzanne”.

drabble a day in the month of may

i am going to take up the challenge here of writing a 100-word story (aka "drabble") every day this month.

this is a great way for me to revitalize my somethingkaty.blogspot again, as it has been horribly neglected (my tumblr has been getting all the fuss lately).

today

predicate to the soul
sees through your thin skin
and reflects if back through her eyes

poetry talker

clay as red as blood
trapped beneath my finger nails

hinder our escape
leaving prints on all the buttons

jmmbb:

We were found broken in a ditch
intertwined
and as the jaws of life pried us apart
I awoke to a glint in your eyes
reflecting a smile
off a puddle of muddy water.

poetry

the wings under our nails
come out under water
releasing bubbles of air
that float to the surface

another poem

i waited up all night
for the world you promised
filled with sweet gestures
and passions that move us

a poem

turning the lights on
turns our hearts
into different plays
reveals the colors
of our private selves
with love and punctuated worries.

Darkling, I listen: 3/22 poem

you said
i wouldn’t feel
you leave

but i heard
the door slam
behind you

and i could
still feel
your thumbprint

on my cheek.

jmmbb:

There were lines in your hands
red lines from your fingers to your neck
where you said you could feel still.

If you’d let me rub the line clean
you would wince from pain
but let me

as I run my fingers across your cheek
press my thumb against your cheekbone,
a red thumbprint

in it all

it isn't all
about us
remember

in the shadows
of the late
night rain

a white cyotee
lurks for
his supper.

double cut

the buds on my tongue
are scortched and bleeding
from the sharp words
i threw out at you
as you left without me

JM's Tumblr Poetry Challenge Day 2

jmmbb:

If I could strike down time
I would but to see
the whites of your eyes
as they were a few moments ago.
Your hand cupped around your ear
fingers in your hair.
The colors of your eyes flashing forward
unseen by me
only the white
and the small crack of a smile.



from this distance
all i can see is your arm
waving from the top of the hill

while you wait for me
i struggle, left behind
by a moment in time

JM's Tumblr Poetry Challenge

jmmbb:

To get my creative juices flowing again, I’m going to try to write a poem every day. The ones I like enough I will post here. Here is one such poem.

You awoke beside
the crushed things
their remnants intertwined
with the fibers of your blouse.

And splinters punctured your skin
drawing blood
while you cut
another slice of bread.




every day that JM posts a poem, I will reblog his poem and write one of my own in correspondence with his poem.

while you sleep
the cut thickens

leaving my heart
open and bleeding

until your eyes twitch
and you’re awake again

happy valentine's day

mesdames has a logo!

thank you so much Michell!

simple kind

a smile that couldn't melt butter
but her heart hurts when he frowns

is unsentimental, unthinking tinkerer
toys with loving her behind every cocked grin

as if he might know more than he lets
she pretends he means more by such unattached sentences

that make the world flat and her eyes glitter
or take for granted the severity of the words

love and us

full length

father and daughter share the same name
the same home and the same hair dresser

his wife is not good with shears
and her mother faints around blood

so neither one has ever had a haircut
but wife and mother is great with a comb.

Homemade Marshmallows!

oh yes she did. rose flavored ones too.

i used a farm girl's recipe for homemade marshmallows (replacing the vanilla extract for 1/4 teaspoon of rose water, and added a little pink food coloring). making marshmallows is easier than it reads, actually, and that's coming from someone who is hopeless when it comes to boiling sugar.

how it changes

the scent of olive oil
becomes a familiar tone

reminding you where you are
at home or on a distant continent

with friends and family
and kind strangers

as dinner companions
on thursday nights

the only nights you chose
dark chocolate bark over milk

how it got

we ended embalmed
in the memories of the other

i don't know how
we got so close so fast

my fingers tracing
all the freckles on your neck

your lips mouthing along
to the songs on radio one

we ended up in love
somehow

this is how it went