For my next poem in the nature series I chose to focus one of my favorite little flowering vines, sweet pea, which grows on the edge of my yard. Besides its peculiar face-like blossom, it’s the plant’s extended blooming season that I enjoy the most. While other flowers have come and died these past months, the sweet pea has held its flowers from late spring until now, the end of summer.
In researching sweet pea I also learned about sweet William, a flower that is commonly used in Victorian gardens. The …

It’s a curious sentence, one that’s not even remotely true: These days, a chicken leg is a rare dish. Yet I heard it at least 20 times yesterday.
It’s a Harvard Sentence, one of many telecommunications engineers use to test clarity over voice networks. I had a chance to ride with Verizon’s test man yesterday as he drove through portions of Long Island. The way it works is a computer dials a phone located in his van every 150 seconds, connecting with a central hub. Then the computers rattle off the …

Here’s the latest poem in my nature series. I’m pretty happy with it, though I can’t promise I won’t fiddle with it some more.
Escape
If we were the size of crabapples
we’d cut our clothes from maple leaves,
then laugh, in our green overalls, at the
slow caterpillars who chase us,
wanting to snack on our pant legs.
In the evening, you pluck a flower from the hosta
for a dress. The tips brush the branch we’d sit on
to watch the night’s lights,
the fireflies that glow like fireworks
in brilliant silence.
In the morning, we’d run through the dewy …

Basil
Glow-soaked leaves,
Like boats, they bow,
pure green and pillowy,
cupping the rain in their
upside-down bumps.
Plucked for the sauce, the soy
or mate tomato,
their scent is soft until
knifed in fine ribbons
Under tooth its savor slightly cinnamon,
the perfume of roses and geranium.
The whiff, bright coriander,
the candy of tarragon,
its oils tinged citronella,
thick laurel and pine.
Such a puzzle, in simple leaves,
the intricate chemistry
of edible land.

I love starting a new project. In this case I’ve been taking tons of macro shots of flowers (though, unlike O’Keefe, I see more faces than sexual organs in the petals). My plan it to write at least 20 poems to include with the photos and create a book out of them using self-publishing Web site LuLu.com.
Last night I wrote the first one, which I’m pretty sure I’ll use to open the book. It’s short, but it speaks with he voice I’m going for with this project. My goal is …