Prelude

Poetry comes to visit once in a while.  On most occasions, she arrives in her most glorious form; but there are times, too, when she appears without regard for eloquence or form. These are constant: She manifests always with the truth her sculpltor finally surrenders to; and with the evident brutality of joy intertwined with the exuberance of tragedy.

She arrives speaking of her prophet’s journey through lands known and unknown to satisfy his hunger for the slaughtered and thirst for the redeemed.  She bears the mark of his journey through a tale of the flavors left on his palate and the memories imprinted on his soul – of food and wine; of souls lost and found; and of life-defining moments carved on the walls of his heart.