Dawn Pistorino posted a review of my chapbook of food poems today. I encourage all my readers to check it out and follow her fine blog. I love these lines from her review:
You will not find any anorexic rejection of edibles here. Bartholomew is absolutely shameless in his love of food.
And, being shameless, remember that gift-giving season nearly upon us: Milkshakes & Chilidogs.
Bartholomew Barker, Poet 
Will check it out! Dawn is on a roll with reviews. Truly incredible and generous with her heart and time.
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Agreed! I had no idea she was going to review my book. She didn’t even ask for a copy.
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She is a gift to her fellow writers and poets. 😇
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I was happy to purchase it.
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Congratulations! Lovely review and I agree that about the line you quoted being the best one.
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She did some good work there and I’m not just saying that because she gave my book a yummy review.
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Baked and sweetened just right
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Thank you, Bartholomew!
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Shameless is the best way to love something or someone.
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Agreed!
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Thank you so much, Bartholomew! Have a bountiful Thanksgiving!
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Happy Thanksgiving to you too!
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All together now…..Food Glorious Food……(for young readers – it’s a song from the film ‘Oliver!’)
http://www.spanglefish.com/berniesblog/blog.asp?blogid=16026
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That Southern Farmers Market poem you posted was one of my first publications. It was accepted by the Dead Mule School of School Literature, which is still my favorite name for a journal.
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Someone’s got a sense of humour.
Akin to the ‘Dead Poet’s Society’ – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dead_Poets_Society – though it could be said of you, that you’re aiming to be your own Dead Poets Society!
Could that be the most use of you/your/you’re in such a short sentence?
I’m going to tell a story – a true story – if the word in question offends – maybe replace with stars?
I have a friend who at one time worked in a cheese factory in Wales. Each day at lunchtime the workers would all open their lunchboxes and there was one bloke whose wife always gave him cheese sandwiches – and this is for a man who was working with cheese all day.
One day – it was the last straw – he opened his lunch box and exclaimed “Oh! FUCK! Not those FUCKING cheese FUCKERS again!”. That may not be the most uses of the word, but it’s using it in, I think, every grammatical form possible!
The ‘Farmer’s Market’ poem is a doozy – not just the foodstuffs – the freckled shoulders.
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That’s funny. Some people need diversity in their lunches but not me. I’ve been eating cheese and pickle sandwiches for lunch since the pandemic began.
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