by tashmcgill | Aug 17, 2003 | Culture & Ideas, Prose & Poetry
A Recipe for an Episcopalian
He used to leave the tomato leaves
To dry on the windowsill,
Separated,
The largest on the left,
Diminishing in size
Until there was just a scrap of green left,
The baby of the family.
Once dry, the leaves were so fragile
A strong gust of wind could crack them.
He put them into soups, sauces and
Sauerkraut: odd for an Episcopalian.
I remember his Sunday sermons,
Severe for a man who took such care
With the leaves of tomatoes.
But as we both grew older, and I learned
How the family had fallen apart,
I realized the importance of tomato leaves–
Making order out of chaos,
Letting the juices dry,
Keeping us all in line.
Jessica Anthony
Brooklyn, NY
by tashmcgill | Aug 9, 2003 | Prose & Poetry
“dear boy
this is girl. my head is full of knowledge and my heart is full of feeling and somewhere in the middle it all is meant to meet. i don’t know where. there is no mapbook. so i get in my car and i drive. i drive to the east and drink coffee with my mother. then i sit in a lecture room with people who have no idea how noisy it is inside my head. so i drive west and look at the waves crashing. i go central and drink coffee in a movie theatre watching someone else’s take on life. i laugh a lot and then it’s dark and i drive through and around the city. i watch the lights and find peace somewhere. i drive south and say goodbye to more friends at the airport. and then i drive north and i find myself at home, writing you again. “
