Tonight's revelation: when one nukes three small eggplants for eight minutes, the flesh turns nicely squooshy but the seeds remain clumped together in hard strands that are rather creepy, in a oh-I-bet-dragon-eyelids-are-textured-like-this! sort of way that makes me want to reach for a sketching pencil.

Then there's Robert Penn Warren's take on revelation:

Yes, you must try to rethink what is real. Perhaps
It is only a matter of language that traps you. You
May find a new way in which experience overlaps
Words. Or find some words that make the Truth come true. - "The Whole Question"

Two poems accepted (*cartwheels and glee*); pushed six back into circulation, and one -- well, I wrote it in June, while in Boston, so it's not that old, but today I looked at it and thought, "Meh. Into the trunk you go, my pretty." I don't think it'll show a claw or hook I could make a meal out of even were I to squoosh it really, really hard. *sigh* Ars longa, verse the umpety-aith...