Tag Archives: studying

Hard to Win Man’s Heart


Write the names out once more and again
making a point to spell them without amend.
Yesterday’s Psychology exam was my bane
today, three more till I come to an end.

Italians, perché tantissimi verbi?
Does it matter that McKinley was called a chocolate eclair?
I just want to know about the center block of Versailles –
what the hell was the last name of that Jules something guy?

Last night my mind was perfectly conformed
Louis Le Vau and the rest, in my head adorned.
Then today it was gone: “interference,” Psych would say,
too much information to retrieve all in one day.

Jules- Jules- I can just see who you are,
but even Vernes’ leagues don’t seem as far!
A last minute look before the test starts,
A way at last! to recall his name and his art-

How could I forget? It’s Hardouin-Mansart.



Poem of a Putana

I was in the library studying for a test when a much more weighty problem resolved it self in a moment of inspired clarity: dinner. One of the literary terms we had to know was haiku. Let me just say that upon be given the list of literary terms I felt relief that I actually knew most of them because I fret over my inability to memorize for memorization’s sake. I need to know and love words in order for them to find a place in my gray matter. But I digress, the point here is that the word haiku having been relieved of struggling to supplant itself into my brain suddenly birthed a series of synapses that resulted in dinner. Working backwards I can see that I must have come across an image of udon noodles with tempura in my mind and from there I concocted an Italian version because, well, I learned to cook through Mediterranean cuisine so that is my filter.

I was in a state of anticipation, and really hungry. When I got back I began the composition. I made a simple batter (eggs, flour, water, minced garlic, salt, and pepper) for my artichokes and then deep fried them. I made a puttanesca sauce (garlic, capers, olives, red pepper, tomato sauce, salt) and boiled up my pasta. The result, is worth sharing if you, like me, have found yourself with a bag of artichokes in the freezer and no desire to go out shopping.

A puttanesca
adorned with a heart of gold
is most delicious


*Putana is Italian for “whore”