a poem.

"apple," by gertrude stein. from her book, tender buttons, which has an entire section on food.

Apple plum, carpet steak, seed clam, colored wine, calm seen, cold cream, best shake, potato, potato and no no gold work with pet, a green seen is called bake and change sweet is bready, a little piece a little piece please.

A little piece please. Cane again to the presupposed and ready eucalyptus tree, count out sherry and ripe plates and little corners of a kind of ham. This is use.

or, you can listen to it here.

more. more. more. and a poem.

i am conscious of how many eggs i eat. seriously. i try not to eat more than 3 or 4 in a week. all that cholesterol, you know? but it is hard because i am not working this summer, and it was my go-to weekend breakfast. and now every day feels like weekend. for a few more weeks, at least.

• toasted flax-wheat bread with a fried egg and gouda
• yellow plum
• okra with onion, garlic, and portuguese pepper, sauteed in olive oil
  

i love plums. i will be so sad when summer is over and so are they.

william carlos williams must have loved them, too. he wrote this poem about them.

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold