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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Working the Dough

Yeast blooms in a warm bath
like living fireworks exploding
under a flourescent sky
Powdery flour is worked until
arms burn
fingers ache
then worked again
and again
transforming
into an elastic glutenous glob
Then
it sleeps
under a blanket of quiet heat
becoming its own pillow
When it wakes,
it births five little pillows
that grow in the oven
like premies in an incubator
until,
shiny and golden,
they emerge.





















Wednesday's project: Challah for Rosh Hashanah



submitted for mindlovemisery, Prompt 19, Food