The magic in cookies is in the wett stuff that
sticks the dry stuf together,
but the dry stuff
the dry sugats and flour and salt and soda, powder
of true alchemical heritage,
tricky stuff tha bi carbon- ate of soda,
just a pinch doen nothin' a spoon full, for a batch of
magic grandpa cookies told of in tales, along with tales
of other dainties, like grandma's chocolate creamcheese pie,
with pecan and butter crust, o
so good. Good enough no need to pay homage,
to the magi in the kitchen
no king ever imagined this power, to tame a raging cabin fever
with cookies mixed, wet stuff first, eggs, extracts, room temp
thick as butter or bacon grease, lard works, make that
smooth, all mixed up, like tongues at Babel
babble on, mix it mix it with a wooden spoon
-- on a ****** day, bake and eat, later, we die anyway.
We live in a never before time, who can imagine next with out hoping at the very least people lighten up about goodness. It is the same in every culture, to the kids.
