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PURCHASE THE DIGITAL COLLECTION (2013)
Fannie Merritt Farmer
3.23.1857 Boston / D. 1.15.1915 Boston
tender, easily pierced, like poached fish, their essence abstracted and transfused into the play of purple shadows over bow-front, ivy, brick.
This is the life
like seasoning pine, in stacks not too far from the apple-wood pile or the birch logs with their wrappings of champagne for pampered flames.
There’s the river
smelling of brick-dust and smashed concrete, oily with light, a mineral salad
iceberg and anemia
like they’d serve at a church supper.
Consolation Site: Raise those waffles!
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