Food + Money + Poetry

Most of the money I make goes on food. Yes there’s college. And the mortgage. And utilities. And everything else. But mostly it’s food. The Holidays are big of course. You know the ones, in the Winter, I don’t have to spell it out. They’re monstrous but mostly it's everyday stuff. Rice. Beans. Rice and beans. Pasta. Pasta and rice and beans. Pasta with sauce. I don’t even go out. Why do poets not write about this? Surely they think about it? Like along with thinking about Mad Men, Wittgenstein, and the horror of the forced air heating system. Well how do you write about poetry and food, poetry and money? Say, how much food could you buy with all the money you earned in your life from poetry? Why, I’d say we could live … more than a year on that, not eating out of course. Eating at home, the two or three of us, nutritiously, virtually meat-free (except for you know The Holidays), lots of beans and rice and pasta. Lots of apples and cheap wine. At least a year. Who knows ha ha ha maybe two.