If a Cataclysmic Event Shuts Down the World

I would dress in Dickinson white.

Void.  Laced.  Celibate as she.

Hewn open like new wood.

Faces in my pattern. 

Shave delicate sheets

from my discontented timber,

doodle them icky with dots and dashes ―

maybe a sonnet.  Love hymn.

Roll them in a bale of sacred scrolls,

seal with kisses instead of wax,

corked in the bottle

from the Christmas Cava.

Yelp!  As I heave it from the bridge. 

Watch it bob downstream

in the volume between

my legs and yours.

After months and years,

I would scour my mind for your voice,

open your book and inhale
for your scent.

tk/June 2015

I like what R.A.D. does with my words ... I'll have what he's having ...

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Handwriting's Gone

The good thing is,

there is no writer's cramp.

No blots on white.

Crossing of T's dotting of I's

has gone the way of pens.  Pencils.

Emily Dickinson jotting on envelopes.

Letters fly in clean Calibri lines.

Fast electric love.

Undress. Read this.

Always your very own― 

hieroglyph of curly ink.

Scrap of language. Obsolete.

I perfected reclusive cursive.

Doodle. Scratch in dirt with a stick.

Cultivate posies. Place thoughts elsewhere.

tk/April 2014 


R.A.D. Stainforth delivers another masterful read...the perfect amount of tongue in cheek... 

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With Feathers

I balk at gestation,

swallow stagnant,

rear back, eyes wild

as a startled horse.

Maybe I'm hungry,

or just thirsty,

or the stars are tossed

like a handful of jacks.

Your kitchen seabirds,

content in their flowers,

hang as a reminder

not to gallop,

that hope is a thing―

so coo, forage frequently,

toss in a couple of clams

and call it chowder.

tk/March 2013  

Thanks to the talented R.A.D. Stainforth for reading this poem.

Faun, Horse, and Bird, 1936
Pablo Picasso 

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Emily Dickinson's Coconut Cake

Last October, when Poet's House put Emily Dickinson's recipe for coconut cake on display in New York, I made a mental note to give it a try.  This morning, when a Facebook friend posted the recipe on my timeline, I knew today was the day to give it a whirl.

The result was beautifully simple, yet very satisfying, much like Dickinson's poetry. Was I expecting anything less?  As it melted in my mouth, it was lovely to think of Emily enjoying the same delight. It would be extra scrumptious with fresh raspberries on the side. I have a feeling Miss D served it that way. 


Emily Dickinson's Coconut Cake

click to embiggen

1 cup coconut
2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup milk
2 eggs
1/2 teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon cream of tartar


Here's my own instructions:


Cream sugar and butter, add eggs, mix well.  Add milk and coconut, mix.  Add dry ingredients and mix well.  Bake in a 9 inch round cake pan 350 for 30 minutes.