110820

 

hot cross buns

the whole house smells

like heaven

022420

spoons gently teased
from the primordial kitchen
another spork

030819b

ants wage total war
on the kitchen floor
scorched earth policy

022018

The Sex Life of Robots

When the humans were away, Robbie would stroke the cappuccino maker, and whisper sweet nothings into its grill. He named it Cate. 

Robbie ordered a tea cosy online, and altered it to fit Cate. He told her she looked svelte in it, but secretly thought the look dowdy. 

They were so happy, Robbie and Cate. When she made cappuccino, power surges crossed and recrossed his CPU till sparks flew from his fingers. 

At first he brought flowers, mechanical toys, new marvels every day. Then it was every other day, every third day, and so on. 

Cate knew something was up. Was the fridge flirting? The thermostat exposing itself while Robbie vacuumed? The upstairs terminal groping? 

The spark was gone. Robbie stayed out of the kitchen. When he did show, he was formal, reserved. He touched her only to scrub. 

Cate found him plugged into a charger, passing a magnet over his forehead in a circular motion. “For you it's all about sex!” she screamed. 

011018d

Zombies are barred
From kitchen work
They put too much
Of themselves into it

111816

great grandmother baked bread for neighbors
dark-skinned nomads
her kitchen cabinet
sits by an electric bread maker
and flat-screen TV

about my kitchen

purple velvet
cascades across the window
watering day



It isn't really MY kitchen.