Art, My Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

To Look at Simple Things

                                    “I like to show the beauty of things that no one looks at twice.”                                  — Eliot Hodgkin In a letter written to Brinsley Ford in 1975…

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My Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Snow Day Distraction

Unpaired Words Prefix or Suffix reversed or left off. They have no in-, no un-, no dis-, and no -less. Orphaned, they amuse. Ept and whelmed, Gruntled, kempt, and couth. Flappable, Trepid, ert. Corrigible and gainly, Stinting and ruly. But there’s more! Effable, nocent, Nocuous, Pervious, Pecunious, turbed, shevelled And domitable. And change the Suffix! Reckful and Ruthful and Gormful…

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Food, My Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Thank You Poughkeepsie Farm Project

This is a shout-out to all the farmers, staff, and administration at the Poughkeepsie Farm Project (PFP). Thank you for all the great produce this year and for making the weekly pick-up of veggies the highlight of the hunkered week!. COVID-19 be damned. Veggies A to Z:  A Shadorma Chain  for the PFP Acorn squash and baby bok choy, cilantro…

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Art, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Lament in December

Lament In December December’s come and all is dead; Weep, woods, for summer far has sped And leaves rot in the valley bed. Grey-blue and gaunt the oak-boughs spread Mourn through a mist their leafage shed. December, season of the dead! Brown-golden, scarlet, orange-red Autumn’s bright hues are faded, fled. December, season of the dead! Robert Graves For Robert Graves…

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Art, Books, Food, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Ode to Garlic

I don’t think I peeled a clove of garlic until I was at least 21. It wasn’t because I didn’t prepare my own food. I cooked through most of college and acquired all kinds of ingenious, makeshift cooking skills using a gas-ring fueled by a penny meter in a narrow kitchen with no oven, no fridge and that I shared…

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