The Meme That Wouldn't Die

A brililant cook offers us an auberginian recipe, albeit without the word "aubergine." And I'm sure I've missed a couple of other such contributions—if you wrote an aubergine poem, please e-mail me and I'll link to it or post the text. I will also put together a chapbook if no one more skilled will step forward; I've never done such a thing so the results aren't likely to be as beautiful as what Maureen came up with. (A little help, here?) What I can do, however, is extend an open invitation for any Auberginian to come to Ithaca and read sometime in the fall or following year. E-mail me for details. Want to read but haven't written an aubergine poem? It's not too late!

Taught my last class this morning and I'm sad to see the little nippers go. But also looking forward to a summer of research and writing. Is that perverse?

Off to Arizona tomorrow to visit Emily's grandmother and also to meet poet Jason Zuzga, who I am reliably informed is also something of a Fourierist. So if you write to me over the next four days and I don't get back to you right away, that's why.