truffle. trifle. tuffle. i started with sound and then started toward sweet taste.
i gave up on american grain because bread is later, but not the idea that “there’s always bread on the table.” while that seems true as something my grandpa said – there has, even in the worst of times, been something for me to eat – it also seems true what my godmother said, “we deserve to give ourselves something sweet.”
jesse and i talk about poetry the same way: making what’s imperfect and often unbearable more bearable. not to say perfect or even pretty, because it often isn’t and it mostly fails, but it gives a process or a way of seeing the thing we are seeing so that it can be approached or approachable.
life is like this:
we moved to california and it was like elementary school again, me saying “i have candy, will you be my friend?” and hoping the friends and community would say yes.
i’ve knitted baby hats, baby slippers, crafted cards, and cooked and cooked. and it made me think about giving ourselves something sweet, nurturing others with sweet things, and hoping that love and goodness can come from good (sweet) intentions.
enter the brainstorm about what matters to me: