"umami" poems
I think divorce papers taste like the ash of a cigarette falling from his lips when he told her the news.
Like whiskey burning fiery hot as it slides down the back of your throat,
with bitter sweet tears pooling in with umami ink, the saltiness hitting the tongue like the papers to the floor, a weeping widow who does not suffer from a death but an absence.
I think divorce papers cut up throats like the edge of a chip, swallowing the news over and over again does not seem to make it go down any easier.
I think divorce papers digest like a cheap meal, the kind that you know will give you trouble, but also know is better for you in the end.
Mar 23, 2021
Mar 23, 2021 at 8:20 PM UTC
matiyaga kang pinapasan ng
mamang nangumpisal sa salamin,
umami't umako ng karnal na
pagkakamali. habang ang karamiha'y
mga miron sa silong ng tirik na araw,
namamanata sa ritwal ng pag-ulit,
pagpako't pagpapasakit sa huling
Adan na nabayubay. upang ang
kapirasong kahoy ay maging kahulugan,
upang ang kahuluga'y maging ehemplo.
templo at tiyempo ng mga himno ng
mga epokrito't espasyo ng hunghang na
pagsamba.
ang balikat ay hudyong Kristo, ang kamay ay
romano. paano kaya kung ang idolo
ng impostor ay sa silya elektrika hinatulan,
papasanin din kaya ito ng walang alinlangan?
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 11:17 AM UTC
The culmination of the battle,
Between salty and sour,
Peppered to perfection.
The sweetness of caramelized onions,
The tickling aroma of browned garlic,
In a beautiful confetti of scallions.
Warm and tender meat,
Drenched in an otherworldy sauce,
Bursting with umami and flavor.
A product of love and spices,
Filling both our bellies and hearts,
It never fails to remind me of home.
But mom, you see,
In all these years, I've come to know,
Of all your versions of Adobo,
The best ones are made,
When you share it with me.
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 8:22 PM UTC
i’d love to sugar your mouth,
gumdrops a sour lipstick compared to
umami tongue flickering with laughter
your hands are like syrup around mine
and i find it fitting to drown often
infinitely into the parfait puzzle piece.
“i haven’t eaten in days” i breathe on your
face while we forget that the playstation
whines still. “me either” your eyelash falls
on my shoulder and we dine on eachother instead.
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 1:31 AM UTC
“Don’t say that,” I said,
for he gave me hope to dream
of a better life
Who am I to judge
what comes from your mind and makes
its way to the page?
Heartbroken hero,
you are worth so much to me
but I turn my head
Inevitably
rejected admiration—
Why do I bother?
I answer myself
quietly, shy, to prevent
embarrassing truths
Speaking in haiku
I am decoding language
to send a message
You are: a poet,
a lover, a dreamer, a
former(?) friend of mine
A broken wing on
the sparrows carrying the
last humility
in this broken world—
You are a fire, lit in black
ink and in tired lines
Your face, a canvas
etched with tragic beauty of
history itself
Your fingers, biceps
trembling with strength, the power
to know and create
Good and goodbyes to
encroached evils of the dark
You know there is more
than storms, depression—
more than this old soul can say
or see or even
Speak, in spite of this
epistolary chain of
senryu, tied with
the hope you once glowed
of, the old flame within you,
the torch to something,
to anything more
that still tastes life in all its
bitter and sweet and
salty and so sour
yourlipspucker with the loved
umami of life
and I am sitting
here, writing this letter to
a man who needs, like
all of us do, to
love and live and laugh and cry
and to feel skin’s warmth
once again. I have hope
for you, even if yours is
hiding under rugs,
swept away in the
midst and mist of foggy lives—
Smoke shall soon clear, and
the right words may not
be found, but these hands you hold
attached to your wrists
I am sure these hands
of yours will find the mirror
and remove the grays
of all your sorrows—
There is light, dear, waiting to
be recognized by
a humble man in
the desert, building machines,
building a new him.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
Likes are good
Love is great
But Feedback is the best
Like is sweet
Love is hot and spicy
Feedback is umami
Something like tasting MSG
Be it good or bad, I still want it
I can never be full
I am always hungry
Satiate my hunger
Let me taste that
Give me what I want
Yes I want that
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 12:25 PM UTC
Somewhere something menacing is happening
Overtaking the mind cantankerous me, here inside the apartment. No longer making plans, exciting friends, hosting
anything
More than a before noon call to maintenance or planned visit from someone else’s friend- concocted thirteen months ago. What has made them so afraid to ever allow themselves to enjoy, the chance at sour or sweet, umami, or something in between vexes these feet under-beat.
Seemingly never to trammel a midnight sidewalk or sweaty cramped R&B/Soul Dance party.
some third floor walk up
4:00a.m.
stranger’s unfurnished creative space
Friday untied to Monday
Oct 25, 2019
Oct 25, 2019 at 11:45 PM UTC
Dumping skip-loads of furniture through the missing wall of my three-story house. Tossing a broken pool table with its hammered slate-top. Me and Max smashed it to pieces. We shook the whole house as if it were jelly, flavoured lime green and mixed in with insipid gobstoppers that block drains. One mahogany-stained side, with rusty poorly placed nails jutting out of it, flies through the air towards the arresting vistas in a makeshift panoramic frame. It frisbees, then falls. Falling like the leaves outside Carol and Dave’s place did, in the umami-infused oxygen. I have never tasted cleaner. They are graceful autumn helicopters that scythe the strings holding the world together. Until the world can repair, we are somewhere else.
The ****** mouldy wood flew like that. But, it cut the strings differently or severed different strings all together. Rain is curling the once neutral carpet, and I sit where I can see the mustard yellow skip receive another treasure.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
Grievous
I hold you as the chameleon with his spring-trigger bone
Holds his tongue
And I will catch you as a fist
I will lick the stench from your odor sacks
as a skunk
All those creepy little fragments
bugs in the system;glitched codes
they are shackled souls in a microsecond arc-length
of the universal
Prodding the dirt
and the worms
as stars
How about all the spice trees?
The many different species of food glitter
they make the buds sparkle, they are thinking of the taste
of umami, of sour, of patchwork gaze
the cooked vestibules of bone
the marrow, seeping into the stew
The pepper trees are smoked
equinoctial bonfires
You and I are yet to be cooked through
A taxi in the trader joes parking lot
Big repetitive 7's splattered across its paneling
I won't forget when i'm drunk or inebriated somehow
The tree in the center of town is lit up with LEDs
Branches curling like worms
You are Pharos, you are the great celestial beam
you are the crescent moon, thin as a sleeve
and the hot taste of batter on your breath
the way you let my Guinness cool off next to the space-heater
and give me yogurt from the local townsfolk
Everything is creamy, you said.
But i don't like to hear that
It's a steel rod into my brain, that.
I am a simple Vishnu Hare Brahma
I do not have any purpose but to be enlightened
and worshiped for my powerful odors
and a four-chambered bowel
that makes the turn easier for worms.
2
Pitiful
You are the hopeless pod
the many wildebeest, crossing their annuals
through twirling water-crocs,
Lion Prides
Leopards shifting within the brush
Bacterial infections from ***** tusks
Strange metal boxes
No 7's on this side
I want to blow the ******* skulls off of anything
that aims for you, sweet mare
45-70
Will literally send chunks of it into orbit
Lion or Turtle or window or Children
The most godly thing is a bullet
And the streams of blood that will seed a new ravine
and seep the next feed of riverrun
Will you be mine, then?
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 4:39 AM UTC
The leaves on the tree outside my window get bigger by millimeters,
And the umami delight of marmite on crumpets is comforting and luscious,
One eye shut because the sun if filling it with heat and light,
This way I can still read my book in the sun,
These joys,
These small joys,
Which you have to take note of, you must,
Are endless;
Cold beer zapping my tongue like electricity, zing zing,
Dippy eggs with toast crunchy and eggs runny , salt flecked across the top,
Coconut hand-cream rubbed between each finger and thumb meticulously,
Music pouring through rooms into the flat and lilting in and out of earshot from outside, inside, next door and my radio,
Sparrows with their endless cheep cheeping,
Steam from strong black tea, gilded with rose, warming my hands nose and stomach,
The tiny hairs on raspberries, so soft and the juice so ****
Plans to go no where, somewhere, the pub! A river! A farm! On a train! On a boat! On a bus!
Candles which pack the room full of floral, honeyed scents,
Crunchy apples,
Flaky pastry,
Warm bread,
The tsssssssttt when you open a can of Coke,
Lemons, just lemons,
The bbzzzz bbzzzz of my phone carrying I love yous, and for ***** sakes,
You have to take note of these joys, you must,
Because when I think about 16 women dead by lovers hands,
I feel I've hollow bones,
I need the beer, eggs, hand-cream, music, sparrows, lemons and bbzzzz, tea, bread, pastry and plans to keep me upright,
And I send thoughts of dippy eggs and lemons to those without.
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 11:54 AM UTC
upping the umami, the fifth taste
“Umami is the last-to-be discovered fifth basic taste, along with sweet, sour, bitter, and salty, and triggers a distinct class of taste receptors on the tongue. ... The most notorious (and often unjustifiably maligned) source of umami is monosodium glutamate (MSG), the sodium salt of a naturally-occurring amino acid.”
a chicken soup recipe^ says it’s time,
time to up the umami,
me-the-no-cook is sidelined and intrigued,
then taken to another place
sweet, sour, bitter and salty
are the tastes of you life,
but it’s time to up the game
release the amino acids of my fingers
into her body, the tasting menu scrapped,
go direct to the boardwalk hotel,
railroad her unto my jail,
teach and share the notorious
fifth perception of loves taste,
the elixir of our combinatory sensationalism
————-
The Best Chicken Soup with Rice, Carrots, and Kale
Saveur
Tomato paste and fish sauce add depth and umami to our best-ever chicken-and-rice soup studded with sweet carrots and silky kale.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 1:37 PM UTC
This' the taste of the unknown,
Love, an emotion 'mongst the strongest
This' the sound of silent roars.
Life, a journey 'mongst the longest.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Talk to me like rosemary and oil,
Like the sour with the sweet,
The heat of the noodle stew,
The first sip of a red wine,
The juicy steak with thyme
And shiitake
Look at me with eyes as gravy
And talk to me like honey
That drips like melting ice,
Like fennel and onions,
And biscuits with peaches
Talk to me like umami risotto,
With leeks
Like viola lemonade
And cinnamon cherry pie
With lime
Sip me like your creamy earl grey
And talk to me like toast and egg,
Like bergamot marmalade
Talk to me this way
May 8, 2021
May 8, 2021 at 11:09 AM UTC
Oh, the jar exults high
holding what we find to be dear
Oh, the marinaras keen zest, umami, and as I close my eyes
I hum the hunger tune.
Oh, but without the curved ridge and open space
the sauce would never grace my face
The jar! The jar,
the vehicle of delicious
who was passed through many hands
and crafted with hot sand.
Oh, tomato, garlic, and onion so sweet
and delivered neat, for me to eat.
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
The tree is beautiful
But nothing compares
To the roots.
Melodies catch attention
But songs are empty
Without the harmonies.
Youth is sharp
But life is simple
Without the depth of age.
Teach me your roots.
Sing me your harmonies.
Let me be there to see the development
Of every crease,
Every wrinkle,
Every stupendous
Life-giving breath.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
moist folds,
pink origami,
a woman's blossom,
deflowered.
hot as hibachi,
my fingers burn,
with exquisite flavors,
tasted.
wanting more,
of what she has to give,
a veritable buffet,
sights and flavors.
salty and sweet,
tastebuds titillated,
all natural,
umami.
then bodies,
tangle and fold,
in living sculpture,
origami
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
Sometimes you're sweet like honey
But it can shift to savory and sometimes even nothing at all
Sometimes though you are an explosion of flavor
What the world would call Umami
Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 12:55 PM UTC
Life tastes of old bread and long-opened chips.
A haggard breath hanging in the heat.
A swollen tongue lolling and sticking to the roof of your mouth
getting in the way of lazy words that seek to dash the doldrums.
Sometimes the gaze of life is piercing and sometimes (now)
it is donut holes iced over and left out overnight
and then left out overnight again.
The muted voice of an underwater murmurer muttering
into cotton-filled ears something half-hearted and uninteresting.
Life is umami for dessert after a gluttonous feast
and never have I so craved the bright citrus peal
of an orange.
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 2:18 AM UTC
In angular moment
my Habit resists
his strong effect
a Strange muon
positively trying my
ungodly K hole
Nun shall pass
save the Charmed
and evil Mr.
B gas lighting
my safe Zyklon
moment He's
no Mr Darby
come strolling down
a dusty Holocaust
lane My weak
Forces atop Space
and Witch Mountain
fluctuate between his
goofy Disney village
and Strong atomic
world It's a
small one after
all I suppose
Sunshine stains my
****** hijab with
spotless and lazy
after Thoughts like
white umami pudding
delivered free by
familial ghosts Each
birthing pack crying
parables of Pain
Each warming quantal
offering us happiness
for changing Time
Delta girls under
smooth curves find
Calculus without spin
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 11:11 AM UTC
Pressed, in leaves of vinegar and soy sauce.
Sensed, believe were me of essense.
The sense that umami came from within.
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 12:43 AM UTC