his sleight of hand betrayals were in the service of love...like taking us fishing the first time, we all amazingly caught a fish. found out years later it was bait, and i still don't know how he managed it.
I'm a cook. And I write, sometimes about food, mostly poems. I make stuff. I get lost. I'm worried about vanishing bees, melting icecaps, the decrease of civility in the world, seedless watermelons, and whether there will be enough time for me to get it all right.
1 comment:
Love this image.
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