A Magazine of Many Arts

Saute an chopped onion in some butter. To me, a soup recipe should always start with onion in butter, and then add something, anything, it doesn’t really matter. But for this soup, you’re going to add pork. I don’t know how much pork, as much as you have.  You would be hard pressed to add too much.  Cut the pork into cubes and brown it in the butter with the onion.  Then add water to cover, a teaspoon or two of salt, and bring to a boil.  Add a can or two of pumpkin.  No, I can’t be more specific, you have to see if the stew is thick enough. I suppose it’s better if you have some wonderful pumpkin left over from your carving, but pumpkins good for carving and pumpkins good for cooking don’t always overlap. Besides, one of the messages of Samhain is that life is short, and so we are going to use canned pumpkin.

Add maple syrup, pomegranate juice, and bourbon. If you know your ancestors’ brand of bourbon, get that. The bourbon adds a nice flavor to the stew, but I use it because my ancestors have always liked it and it brings them around. I used about a quarter cup of maple syrup and bourbon and a half cup of pomegranate juice but since I didn’t measure the pork I started off with, that probably doesn’t mean much to you. Use as much as you like.  Lower the heat and simmer for an hour or two or three, or until you’re ready to eat.  This stew can cook for days.  You will see the ancestors gathering around after a while, sniffing the air and gossiping. Just before serving, sprinkle a handful of pomegranate seeds in the bowl so they will still be crisp.

Serve with a side of starch, potatoes or bread or rice.  Serve your family, and make sure to leave a big bowl for the rest of your family, the ones who are gone that you usually don’t see.  Tell stories about them, and wait for them to break in to correct you.  Listen to what they have to tell you. Love them and remember them.

Instead of noisy static, we hear clear beats

grouped in patterns of seven and eleven.

Our entire team is galvanized; not even

the frequent napper holds back to see who gets

to break this code. At last this is the breech

in the chaos where we’ve plunged our heads

for years. If this is more than just a glitch

in our equipment, we’ll do as it bids.

 

We work around the clock like beings driven

by unseen forces. Take-out pizza boxes

fill up the lab. All effort goes toward solving

the encrypted message. The smell of pizza mixes

with smells of a gym locker room: not even

the need to run a clean, tight ship relaxes

the grip of this obsession. Where it leads

is up for grabs. In face of all the scads

of data, interpretation lags behind.

Prime numbers turn to other universals –

Planck’s constant, pi, the speed of light. The mind

of each researcher is party to rehearsals

that leap from a quantitative kind

of knowing through sensual feeling parcels

to mountains forests horses starlight art

and magical perceptions of the heart.