Archive for August, 2009

rolling boil

Thursday, August 13th, 2009

On the day that Les Paul died
I was making blackberry jam
and listening to Amahd Jamal
and other jazz on the radio

while I’m stirring the mashed fruit
waiting for a boil to occur
I watch my stirring motions
round and round then in eights

my patience reminds me of times past
and the beauty of wooden cameras
and old Leicas and Stetson hats
and double-breasted suits that
my father wore in warmer times

when he too grooved on jazz
playing his sax in swing bands
and plying his trade as a photographer
of families and nudes, dancers and
mountains, babies and soldiers.

As the pot reaches a boil its time
to add all that sugar while stirring fast
it looks like the earth as seen from space
with all those white clouds stirring around
against that dark surface of goodness

After a full rolling boil, I love that phrase,
when my stirring no longer abates its fury
it must be kept up for just one minute, no longer
and then ladled into waiting jars to set

and now my mate Jane again assists
bringing the sterile jars out of their water
and onto the counter for filling and when done
exclaims another successful jam session.


Wednesday, August 5th, 2009

Blessed be the bastard and the infidel

for in their hearts reside the saintly passions

not shrouded by the illusions of ceremony

nor complicit in the heresy of dogma