For all my fellow-sufferers who are participating in National Novel Writing Month, I offer this recipe.
Start with two cloves of garlic
and a medium red pepper.
Cut with pinking shears and
sprinkle with tiny snail shells.
Add two eggs, whole—shells and all—
and open a can of beets—what?
You were going to add the beets?
No, throw away the beets and add the can.
And then it gets interesting.
Add a live peacock
and maybe an embroidered couch pillow,
something comfy and familiar,
and the shadows of seven hummingbirds,
bobbing at the feeder.
A sunset is traditional,
but you might prefer the taste of a foggy creek bank,
picked fresh from an October morning--
with a doe lapping the water.
Simmer slowly over low heat.
You’ll need some talking goldfish, of course,
at least one, maybe two,
and a bit of shagbark hickory for texture
and five or six episodes of Perry Mason
on VHS in black and white.
Then your choice: two of the lesser known moons of Jupiter
or a sinister Hungarian with an alligator attache
and a serpent tattoo.
In the steam above the pot, a story should begin to form.
Just season to taste
and stir, stir, stir.