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  2. Dim Sun, Dim Sum

    Dim sun, your soft
    floury edges today
    make me think of steam
    clouds under a wicker basket,
    pillowy mounds of dough
    pulled into a pucker
    atop sweet or savory buns…
    Let the glittery icicles
    on twigs and branches trade
    their hard-edged, fishnet-
    stockinged gossip above us all,
    here at an oilcloth-covered table
    in a little hole in the wall
    where the air is fragrant
    with ginger and scallions
    and dark plum sauce.

    – Luisa A. Igloria
    02 04 2011

        • Yeah, but I’m guessing it’s going to be a lot easier for you to satisfy this craving in D.C. than it is for me out here in the sticks.

          Hope you’re enjoying the MFA, by the way. I thought hard about going this year, but the thought of being surrounded by so many poets made me break out in hives.

          • I’m on a train back as we “speak”– AWP this year was as usual overwhelming and overstimulating. I attended two meetings, spoke at two panels, had two wonderful reunions over great meals with two old friends, one of them my old college prof in philosopy – I hadn’t seen himsince ’92.

            No opportunity to go find dim sum in DC.

            We could in Chicago’s Chinatown next year if you want to be on a panel on collaborative poetries… What say you?

          • Also, if that panel gets approved, I would want to try some more active collaborations along the lines of our letter-poem linked verse series. (Not necessarily using comment threads — we could try Google docs, too.)

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