TOUT DE SUITE
Patina off for a quick afternoon sushi date: menus, napkins, another round of found patina poems. Thanks to Zet and Rudolf for taking Mr Baby, to make it all happen.
i. Dessert Menu
Free-form plums plummily—
Scented napkins draped over
The bend;
Ice wine zooming zoomily,
Tip the descanter to reveal
The unfolding—
“Here’s a bowlful of lemons,”
Infused with a splash of me,
Rich and beautiful pipers
Cannot transcend the
surround sounds,
of having you near.
ii. Chez Turtle
Crawled petals on black,
Caramelized in pearly onion—
Joy of zipping, joy of zush,
Save a craving or two:
Merry, if you ask.
Krakatoa chocolate melt,
I don’t care what Simon sez:
Turtle joy—the bliss of Mary—
I want more than your
Sleight of hand.
iii. Just Desserts
Decadent richness,
This creamy sensation,
New York frooshi mess,
A traditional favorite,
Mixed half and half or not.
Delicious warmed, tender loaded—
Polynesian wrapped
Ribbons of mellow flavor
Exquisite, sided & drizzled:
A not-to-sweet
Ending with a twist.
iv. Mount Fuji
Rolled in green tea
& fashioned with
Unbelievable calling,
Nothing better to clean
Than immersing yourself
In coffee, uramaki style.
Buttery tart,
For those who prefer sluicing.
Palate the saucy finish
In a most welcome burst:
Black sesame /open sesame
Will finish your line,
Will melt in your mouth.
v. Solstice Delivered
We loudly brew
In exquisite touring
The slow mojo of
Your scent.
Hearts ensconced,
Willows blazing,
The dance floor is on the ceiling.
Bronzed by the memories
Of ignightly passion,
Soaring gently in
Bold embrace.
Choose 3 pieces,
Without a trace.
vi. Slip Knot
Trace the outline
Of lips encircling
The chasm,
The syncopated
Mercy of dreams in black,
The fiery missed
Of all you lack,
The 12-pointed star
Of followed dreams
& yesterday—
Louvered blinds / blind lovers—
What matters
In the final recounting:
Love always unties the not.
i. Dessert Menu
Free-form plums plummily—
Scented napkins draped over
The bend;
Ice wine zooming zoomily,
Tip the descanter to reveal
The unfolding—
“Here’s a bowlful of lemons,”
Infused with a splash of me,
Rich and beautiful pipers
Cannot transcend the
surround sounds,
of having you near.
ii. Chez Turtle
Crawled petals on black,
Caramelized in pearly onion—
Joy of zipping, joy of zush,
Save a craving or two:
Merry, if you ask.
Krakatoa chocolate melt,
I don’t care what Simon sez:
Turtle joy—the bliss of Mary—
I want more than your
Sleight of hand.
iii. Just Desserts
Decadent richness,
This creamy sensation,
New York frooshi mess,
A traditional favorite,
Mixed half and half or not.
Delicious warmed, tender loaded—
Polynesian wrapped
Ribbons of mellow flavor
Exquisite, sided & drizzled:
A not-to-sweet
Ending with a twist.
iv. Mount Fuji
Rolled in green tea
& fashioned with
Unbelievable calling,
Nothing better to clean
Than immersing yourself
In coffee, uramaki style.
Buttery tart,
For those who prefer sluicing.
Palate the saucy finish
In a most welcome burst:
Black sesame /open sesame
Will finish your line,
Will melt in your mouth.
v. Solstice Delivered
We loudly brew
In exquisite touring
The slow mojo of
Your scent.
Hearts ensconced,
Willows blazing,
The dance floor is on the ceiling.
Bronzed by the memories
Of ignightly passion,
Soaring gently in
Bold embrace.
Choose 3 pieces,
Without a trace.
vi. Slip Knot
Trace the outline
Of lips encircling
The chasm,
The syncopated
Mercy of dreams in black,
The fiery missed
Of all you lack,
The 12-pointed star
Of followed dreams
& yesterday—
Louvered blinds / blind lovers—
What matters
In the final recounting:
Love always unties the not.
Labels: 11-11, corydon throsp, rufus and daddy loudon
posted by murat11 at 11:20 PM
2 Comments:
Paschal, the photo is lovely. I remember those days when B. and I, having secured reliable child care, would steal away for a date. It would feel like stealing sometimes. Delicious.
Delicious too is your sensual love reverie--beginning, quite sensibly, plummily, with dessert, then moving into the Solstice and beyond--the slip knot. Evocative and love-infused.
It's always fun to resurrect love poetry over a table of food. The first Patina poems were on napkins at Mi Tierra at 5 in the morning (about the only time to go to MT: before the cooks wake up enough to start cooking bad tourist food) nearly 10 years ago, after an impulsive early morning jaunt from Austin to SA.
Thanks again for your words of appreciation.
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