After having a beautiful Japanese breakfast in New York City on Tuesday I drove home inspired by the beauty of a table in the morning. It had been a cold, slushy, gritty day. Our host was at ease and his attention to balance, health, natural ingredients, pots and simplicity was a testament to an old friendship. The experience became incredibly inspiring. In my own house I am not a natural breakfast poet. I wake from the sea of sleep and grab what has floated by in my dreams. The choices I make in the morning arise out of habit, an almost accidental rescuing of ingredients, containers and memory.
"I'm not a poet. I'm a person far out at sea, and the poem is a raft made of whatever floats past in the water. Those almost accidental rescuing pieces are words, rhythms, musics, ideas, the memory that is mine and the memory that is all of ours and the memory that is held in language itself."
--Jane Hirshfield, in an interview with Kim Rosen
"I'm not a poet. I'm a person far out at sea, and the poem is a raft made of whatever floats past in the water. Those almost accidental rescuing pieces are words, rhythms, musics, ideas, the memory that is mine and the memory that is all of ours and the memory that is held in language itself."--Jane Hirshfield, in an interview with Kim Rosen
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