Store-bought sauce + oven-ready noodles = lasagna in the refrigerator, on a night when I’m away
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One of the things I enjoy on the Virtual World: Peter’s details about the fabulous dinners that he and Dean make and serve. They always sound perfectly leisurely and scrumptious.
Yesterday morning, I rode my bike over to the neighborhood farmers’ market, and later we had a big Sunday dinner for six: salad made of shaved fennel, mushrooms and parmesan with lemon juice, olive oil, and black pepper, then bell pepper ravioli from the farmers’ market in a sauce made of garlic, olives, sun-dried tomatoes, and basil, with a dash of cream, and then halibut with a lemon and caper sauce, baby bok choy, and mashed potatoes. Just add water, wine, and much laughter—a nice way to end the weekend and start the week.
In that spirit, I’ve added a few food poems to the sofa.
“Runners, get a T-shirt. They’re free. They have a poem on the back! Support your local poets.”
At this point, I would chime in.
“Get a free T-shirt. It’s pink!”
The morning was blustery, the wind was gusting, and we had fun.
That was my outdoor break in between reading poems on Saturday night and Sunday afternoon at Deborah Birrane’s benefit dance performance. I was able to watch her dance during tech rehearsal on Friday night—and she danced beautifully. Each concert included mingling, complete with sparkling wine, the dance and poetry performance, a question-and-answer session, and then a reception with Italian wines paired with foods.
Feasts for everyone!
During the Q & A, in response to a question about where dance might be going in the next 30 years, Deborah talked about grass-roots efforts to bring dance to people and make it accessible—easier for people to enjoy.
I thought about that and how it relates to poetry. It seems like it’s easy for us poets to feel kind of marginalized by society, or by popular culture. How do we bring poetry to everyone?
I think that Ted Kooser’s poem of the week probably helped, plus poems on the bus, poems in public art, artists in the schools. I think the Running Poets of Green Lake was a fabulous and creative example of how to weave poetry into the comfortable fabric of people’s lives.
Is poetry supposed to be comfortable? Not always, but I think you have to start somewhere.
What do you think?