From the verses of Shakespeare to the violence of Football, a soft hand on the nape of my neck to a rim's hard rattle after a dunk, the mute of Miles to the rhymes of Rakim, Hershey's chocolate to a garlic peppered, cedar-planked salmon, Joel Dias-Porter's thoughts scatter like grains of black sand across a wind-blown beach.
Monday, July 07, 2014
Summer Madness
Summer lightning-
That blonde streak
in her hair
And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)
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