Craig Arnold Poems
|2.||For A Cook||12/16/2014|
|5.||Lines for painting on grains of rice||10/14/2017|
|6.||Meditation on a Grapefruit||10/14/2017|
|9.||The Invisible Birds of Central America||10/14/2017|
|12.||Very Large Moth||10/14/2017|
Comments about Craig Arnold
For A Cook
What I remember most is what he did to the couple
who sent his best pasta back to the kitchen,
pronouncing it "too thin." Capers and kalamata
olives tossed with squid-ink angelhair
—salty, he used to say, as sweat on a black man's cock.
He said this often, not only to shock:
food should be made with love, and love to him was sweat,
saliva, tears. What do they want from me?
he muttered, adding an egg, more Parmesan, a pint
of heavy cream, and tossed it all together,
the straw-yellow sauce stringy with albumen,
thickened with semen as an ...