Morning finds her curled like a prawn Around a stuffed blue Pegasus, or the smallest Prawn-pink lion. Or else she’s barging Into my room, and leaning in close (...)
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Do you remember how great summer holidays were as a kid? A seemingly endless expanse of time when the daily routine of (...)
islands parting tides as meteors burn the air. Oysters powder to chalk in my hands. – from ‘The River’ by Robert Adamson It’s been raining for days.* Heavy (...)
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. – from The Merchant of Venice, Shakespeare The waratah flower, native to the south-east coast of Australia, is a (...)
I’m still asleep but you know I will wake if you need – from ‘Wangal Morning’, Evelyn Araluen It’s been a wet spring here in Narrm/Melbourne. The sound of the (...)
Roasted cauliflower and beetroot salad with rosewater dressing
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I bend to it willingly, this patch of earth and its green things, in their own world (though I hold the title to it) hungry for life…” – from ‘After’ by David (...)
There’s a wild sunset brewing up over the Pacific. The water is glowing turquoise, the sky is turning crazy pink, the lights of the Santa Monica Ferris wheel (...)
“There is not city But the city within. No door, but the door To simple wisdom. We walk, dumb As newborns. Into the tremendous and endless Blessing.” – from (...)
Pistachio and rosewater cake with cardamom frosting
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— the dusk light, the cloud pattern, recorded always in your heart and the rest of the world — chaos circling your winter boat. – from ‘Last Ink’, Michael (...)
Something woke me, something feathered up against me in a dream. Perhaps its soft tip of wing skipped across my face…” – from ‘Butterfly Kisses’, Ian McBryde (...)
… again the emerald green pallu of her sari tucked in at her hips, across her breast, and cough it up over her shoulder a hush of paprika and burnt honey (...)
“…balance of humors, coconut liquor thinned / by broth, sour pulp of tamarind / cut through by salt, set off by fragrant / galangal, ginger, basil, cilantro, (...)
The skies today are a bright, pale mid-winter blue, the air still and cold. I’m enjoying a moment of afternoon silence, drinking a cup of tea with a thin (...)
The beetroot is in my roots, borscht in my bloodline. My great grandmother was Ukrainian. The story goes that during a pogrom in the early 1900s she stabbed a (...)
Now the leaves are falling fast… – from ‘Autumn Song’, W. H. Auden The day we made these Pear & Strawberry Muffins last week was unexpectedly lovely. The (...)
Spoon of everyone. Spoon of the belly. Spoon of the empty belly. Spoon of the full one. Spoon of no one hungry. Spoon for everyone. — from ‘Spoon Ode’ by (...)
I made this cake for my niece’s second birthday a couple of weeks ago. A pretty chilled out afternoon – balmy weather, an assortment of salads, cold beers, (...)
“But then the dark skin of night would peel off and there would be a fresh day waiting for us, glossy and colourful as a child’s transfer and tinged with the (...)
come on sweetheart let’s adore one another before there is no more of you and me — from Fountain of Fire, Rumi It’s Monday evening as I write this, cool enough (...)
“I want everything to have a handle, I want everything to be a cup or a tool, I want people to enter a hardware store through the door of my odes.” This (...)
If you’re not interested in a quick side of politics with your panzanella, scroll down now. If you are, though, let’s take just the briefest of moments to (...)
