Mycelium by Wilda Morris

At Grandmother's Table circa 1948 by Elizabeth Langemak

Taste by Patridge Boswell

Lullaby by Edward Mayes

Shakespeare by James B. Nicola

Summer Night by Diane Giardi

100 Words on My Father with a Big Fish by Jan Presley

Why go to heaven yet by Margo Davis

Roll Over Beethoven by Jonathan Pacic

limnophila aromatica by Susan Soriano

Bantams by Heather Bourbeau

Salt by Carolyn Wells

It Won't Taste the Same by Michelle Morouse

The Fallacy of Comparisons by Paul Lieber

Ode to End of Summer by Wally Swist

408 Dates with Maureen by Gail Bellamy

Taste Testing by Sarah Fawn Montgomery

A Meditation on Working as a Produce Clerk by Ross Stager

Le Fouquet by Elisa Albo

Two Poems by Sarah Paley

Transubstantiation by Susan O'Dell Underwood

Two Poems by Sharon Abra Hanen

Strawberries by Vincent Peloso

Chin Chin by Jessica M. Brophy

Nonpareil by Lois Rosen

Creating Foodie Monsters by Elisa Albo

Foods I Love by Meredith Drake

Three Poems by Terence Winch

Soufflé by Piscilla Atkins

Three Poems by Gail Peck

Under the Kitchen Floor by Bruce Cohen

Spring Peas Come to the Stores by Hannah Fischer

Two Poems by Grace Bauer

Kettle by Susan Kelly-DeWitt

Going to Get Swedish by Carol Berg

Potluck on Sulphur Creek by Brenda Butka

My Mother's Handwriting by Julia Wendell

Radish by Lauren Henley

The Way of the Buddha by Nadia Ibrashi

Famine Bread by Karen Holmberg

Leer Comida by Andrés Catalán

Cooking Show by Gary Mesick

Museum of Butter by Carol Jenkins

Two Poems by Crystal Simone Smith

Yardbird Suite by John Dufresne

Leer Comida

by Andrés Catalán

Gotea tinta de las comisuras de mi boca.
- Mark Strand

September 2012    

La magdalena de Marcel Proust, las uvas
del pícaro de Tormes, los banquetes
de Gargantúa, las lentejas del viernes
de Quijote, el pastel
de riñones que Bloom llama menú
digno de un príncipe, el café
y las naranjas en la mañana al sol
de Stevens, los arándanos de Frost,
las dietas excesivas que Mann hace ingerir
a Hans Castorp, la redonda
noche de Miguel y su sol en sigilo.
Los días como letras de una sopa
en ese célebre poema de Howard Nemerov,
la vida a cucharillas de T. S. Eliot,
las palabras que caben en un plato
y que alguien, en algún lugar, se traga.


Reading Food

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
- Mark Strand

The madeleine of Marcel Proust, the grapes
of the rascal from Tormes, the feasts
of Gargantua, the every Friday lentils
of Quixote, the kidney
pie that Bloom calls a dinner
fit for a prince, the coffee
and oranges in the sunny morning
of Stevens, the blueberries of Frost,
the excessive diets that Mann forces
into Hans Castorp, the round
night of Miguel and his stealthy sun.
The days like letters in a soup
in that famous poem by Howard Nemerov,
the life in coffee spoons of T. S. Eliot,
the words that can fit on a plate and
that someone, somewhere, swallows.

  Andrés Catalán was born in Salamanca, Spain, in 1983. He writes in Spanish and he is the author of two books of poetry, Composiciones de lugar (2010) and Mantener la cadena de frío (2012), the last one written in co-authorship with Ben Clark. He has translated to Spanish books by Robert Hass, Robert Frost and Stephen Dunn and contributes to several Spanish literary magazines. He publishes a blog: lemonocledemononcle.blogspot.com. This poem, translated by the author, is from the upcoming book Mantener la cadena de frío (Maintain the cold chain), in collaboration with Spanish-English poet Ben Clark.

Photo used under Creative Commons.