Monday, November 23, 2020


Yield: 8 scones 

Prep Time: 30 minutes 

Cook Time: 14 to 16 minutes 

Total Time: 45 minutes 

These pumpkin scones are a copycat version of Starbucks' pumpkin scone; they are warmly spiced and topped with two sweet glazes - one plain and one spiced. Ingredients: 

For the Scones: 

2 cups all-purpose flour 

7 tablespoons granulated sugar 

1 tablespoon baking powder 

½ teaspoon salt 

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon 

½ teaspoon ground nutmeg 

¼ teaspoon ground cloves 

¼ teaspoon ground ginger 

6 tablespoons cold butter, cut into small cubes 

½ cup canned pumpkin 

3 tablespoons half-and-half (can substitute heavy cream) 

1 large egg 

For the Powdered Sugar Glaze: 

1 cup + 1 tablespoon powdered sugar 

2 tablespoons milk 

For the Spiced Glaze: 

1 cup + 3 tablespoons powdered sugar 

2 tablespoons milk 

¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon 

⅛ teaspoon ground nutmeg 

Pinch ground ginger 

Pinch ground cloves 

Directions: 1. Make the Scones: Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper; set aside. 

2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and ginger. Using a pastry blender (or fork), cut the butter into the dry ingredients until the mixture is crumbly and there are no pieces of butter larger than the size of a pea; set aside. 

3. In a medium bowl, whisk together the pumpkin, half-and-half and egg. Fold the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients until mostly combined (the mixture will seem dry), and turn the dough out onto a clean work surface. Knead the dough a few times to ensure it is completely combined. 

4. Pat the dough into a 7-inch circle. Cut the round of dough into 8 equal triangles. Place the scones on the prepared baking sheet. Bake for 14 to 16 minutes, or until lightly browned on top. Cool completely before glazing. 

5. Make the Powdered Sugar Glaze: In a small bowl, whisk together the powdered sugar and milk until smooth. Use a pastry brush to spread the glaze over the top of each scone. Allow to set (about 15 minutes) before proceeding with the spiced glaze. 

6. For the Spiced Glaze: In a small bowl, whisk together the powdered sugar, milk, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and cloves. Using a spoon, drizzle the glaze over each scone and allow to set before serving. (If the mixture is too stiff to drizzle, whisk in a splash of milk at a time to thin it out just enough to drizzle.) Leftover scones can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.

Monday, November 9, 2020

The Science of Dewdrops


The Science of Dewdrops

There is a wonderfully nulti-coloured male frog, in some rain forest, somewhere extremely remote, that when there aren't enough females around to procreate with, they transform, and, become a female. The reverse is also true, but there, the natural tendency is to be male. Books of scholarship explain of enzymes and such, regardless of our imaginations, the species survives.

There is a splendid worm (most, actually), on some metaphoric wet sidewalk after a spring rain, that is male on one end and female on the other. They need no transformation, because whichever role it needs to play, it's ready. The biological studies refer to species survival, I say, “Isn't that too fucking cool!”
Female praying mantises and black widow spiders are renowned for their infamous male destruction and callous disregard for their kind. Conventional wisdom dictates gender domination and an unusually aggressive female behaviour When, in fact, the act is an erotic reflex accident to slower, than need be, male spiders and similar brethren
Bonobo are one of the most peaceful, unaggressive species They use sex as greetings, a mean of solving disputes, making up for fights, and as favours in exchange for food. They tongue kiss, engage in oral sex, mutual masturbations, and the males even have a strange "penis fencing" ritual. Darwinists explain we share similar genes but cannot understand why the ape stopped evolving.
Many think a Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction is worthy of our universal attention, and, gay marriage is a more immoral act than electrically frying a strapped person from the inside out. Showing a male nipple is different than a female and, even though, we're all of human kind, in some bizarre sociological apartheid, we're different
And, that my friends, is the science of dewdrops

The Void

The Void

time passes ...

as silent intervals
between conscious moments

the constricting nothing
between each next something

when does today
become tomorrow?

Sunday, November 8, 2020

The Gardener


The Gardener

The gardener tends Her garden

as the Dominant force of attention

The canvas blank and dormant

like flesh awaiting lust's ascension

She scans the subject carefully

scanning places for Her preparation

a mound, protected, gathers Her eye

perfect for furrowing and separation

She slowly moistens the area gently

creating openings for Her view

a nod, a smile, it fits into Her plan

fingers mixing the wetness into goo

She grasps Her manufactured seedling

and inserts its length into the hole

once planted, it moves about with ease

the garden almost gasping to Her goal

She smiles seeing the fruits of labor

and where the planting had been

planning with Her thoughts of mind

when soon She will garden once again

Saturday, November 7, 2020

Eden's Gate


Eden's Gate

You told me once, and, I believed,

of Eden's gate. The cleansing place

for dreams and those things wrong with us.

Secreted from others, unaware,

deposited like a treasure to keep safe,

only to look at when alone and quiet

This I accepted as your gift,

as the grail to guide me. To help

make me strong. To help ease my pain.

But, love is an inconstant friend,

easily damaged and lost amid the horizon.

Why would you share it away to another?

The Affinity of Flight


Thursday, November 5, 2020

A Wooded Night

 A Wooded Night

Her lips wore rouge like apples turning red
lustrous with hints of what's hidden inside
Hair of multi colours save one blond thread
and yellow sun dress with one strap untied
Shoes more like hiking boots than fancy heels
laces loose and sock tops above the shaft
A smile so light the come hither reveals
her want of attentions within each draught
We often met in haste on moonless night
aware that time and place were not our friend
For our love need conceive before first light
and she to home must quickly prior wend

My love for her knew no bounds nor limit
nor could her mother's screams near inhibit

It Just Is


Wednesday, November 4, 2020


I witnessed heaven – once

It arrived unannounced, dressed in opal green dungarees,

shaggy hair, and, breasts a little larger than I like

Maybe that's why I didn't recognize it at first,

perfection had always been a part of the definition

That, and, the fact she was with someone else

Morrison sang. She danced like a duck.

It was love at first sight. Or, shorty thereafter

But, it was love

True love


Summer passed with warm days and heated nights

Just not with each other, yet. It happened though,

eventually. The beach packed with almost beauties

and their friends that actually thought they were

No music this time. Volleyball. And, she flowed with

grace, fluidity beyond my stumble bumble, is she hurt, style

That night, everything came at once. Close to perfect

Yes, it was love

True love


I witnessed heaven -- once


Not All Syrup is Digestible

light reflected



around cigarette butts

and nearly lit streets

thoughtlessly tossed


carefully collected

and saved

for leaner times

broke-n times

of nicotine blunts

after the rains

and tears

of the father

falling upon the son



hope discarded



on empty desires


the fool's treasure

brought forth


in silver linings

and pots of gold

to be smoked

hopelessly injected

before sanity returns

projecting faith

and nonsense

falling upon the son



death enveloped



through the moments


between here and there

this and that

picture perfect


of cheap smiles

adorned on melted faces

whiskey breath

whispers i love you

and you too

life's potential

falling upon the son



blood red-roaded



in paint cans

with colourless allusions


time left at home

hidden among stuff

buried in the haystack


nervous pin pricks

regret filled

guilt by dis-association

today's garbage


falling upon the son



new babies birthed



for salvation

the ever-lasting soul

that beyond comprehension


his likeness

the facsimile of love

kodak moments

cherry vodka laughter

lived in a sleeping bag

behind the church

of stained glass

and mis-mortared bricks

falling upon the son



where are the fucking rainbows now