Bread & Poetry~ week of September 26th to October 2nd

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Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in … Read more

Bread & Poetry~ week of September 19th to September 25th

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Mistaken Identity by Tony Hoagland I thought I saw my mother in the lesbian bar with a salt gray crew cut, a nose stud and a tattoo of a parrot on her arm. She was sitting at a corner table, leaning forward to ignite, on someone’s match, one of those low-tar things she used to smoke, and she looked happy to be alive again after her long marriage to other people’s needs, her twenty-year stint as Sisyphus, struggling to push a blue Ford station wagon full of screaming kids up a mountainside of groceries. My friend Debra had brought … Read more

Bread & Poetry~ week of September 12th to September 18th

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Button by Jane Hirshfield It likes both to enter and to leave, actions it seems to feel as a kind of hide-and-seek. It knows nothing of what the cloth believes of its magus-like powers. If fastening and unfastening are its nature, it doesn’t care about its nature. It likes the caress of two fingers against its slightly thickened edges. It likes the scent and heat of the proximate body. The exhilaration of the washing is its wild pleasure. Amoralist, sensualist, dependent of cotton thread, its sleep is curled like a cat to a patch of sun, calico and round. … Read more

What is Mama Bread?

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In my house, we call it Mama bread. My daughter started it, her sleepy melodious pitch answering to my morning requests as she ambled down the stairs. “I’ll have some mama bread.” It came into our lexicon without any signal or flourish. It was just there, acting between us, moving in like a trusted member of the family that we could rely on for both strength and happiness. Mama bread. For most of recorded history what we came to know as Mama bread was simply called bread. Flour, water, salt, magic… Magic. Otherwise known as microbes…which is fine by … Read more

Bread & Poetry~ Week of September 5th to 11th

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The Tree by Ezra Pound I stood still and was a tree amid the wood, Knowing the truth of things unseen before; Of Daphne and the laurel bow And that god-feasting couple old that grew elm-oak amid the wold. ‘Twas not until the gods had been Kindly entreated, and been brought within Unto the hearth of their heart’s home That they might do this wonder thing; Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood And many a new thing understood That was rank folly to my head before.     Seeded Spelt Mama Bread Spelt is an ancient … Read more

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