The call from my enrollment advisor was  about a lousy form that I have to return to him – for a second time.  But, hey, that’s OK, stuff gets lost sometimes and it’s no big deal to send it again. And, he’s just making sure I’m all set to get registered for classes on the 19th.  I think it will feel official when that happens!

Meanwhile, let’s continue to be inspired by poetry.  Parts 13-16 of Erica Jong, “Fruits and Vegetables.”


But the poem about bananas has not yet been written. Southerners worry a lot about bananas. Their skin. And nearly everyone worries about the size of bananas, as if that had anything to do with flavor. Small bananas are sometimes quite sweet. But bananas are like poets: they only want to be told how great they are. Green bananas want to be told they’re rip. According to Freud, girls envy bananas. In America, chocolate syrup & whipped  cream have been known to enhance the flavor of bananas. This is called a banana split.


The rice is pregnant.
It swells past its old transparency.
Hard, translucent worlds inside the grains
open like fans. It is raining rice!
The peasants stand under oiled
rice paper umbrellas cheering.

Someone is scattering rice from the sky!
Chopper blades mash the clouds.
The sky browns like cheese souffle.
Rice grains puff  & pop open.

“What have we done to deserve this?”
the peasants cry. Even the babies
are cheering. Cheers slide from their lips
like spittle. Old men kick their clogs
into the air & run in the rice paddies
barefoot. This is a monsoon! A wedding!

Each grain has a tiny invisible parachute.
Each grain is a rain drop.

“They have sent us rice!” the mothers scream,
opening their throats to the smoke . . .


Here should be a picture of my favorite apple.
It is also a nude & bottle.

It is also a landscape.
There are no such things as still lives.


In general, modern poetry requires (underline one):  a) more fruit; b) less fruit; c) more vegetables; d) less vegetables; e) all of the above; f) none of the above.

Final parts 17 and 18 tomorrow!

(Didn’t you love how she stuck a grain – rice – into a poem called “Fruits and Vegetables?”  Clever.)