Peeled Onion Dream Pie

“Just peel the onion,” they say.
“Peel back the layers
and see what you find.”

I say “Nothing,” but I am wrong.

Nothing is just what I found
at the time,
but now I know it’s full of space,
and space of course is full of stars.

So we talk about observation,
seeing time move, and
wondering when
and how
simple viewing
moved its way
through the amygdala
to turn itself into critical thinking.

To make this pie,
I suggest you start with
just one large,
unfathomably sweet
Vidalia onion.

Peel it back
until you all you can see is
stars, motion,
and mathematics.

Opine to your heart’s desire.

Percolate.
Steep overnight.
Reflect, and finally
inject with just enough emotion
to give it that special zip.

Spread over a thick skin
of bread dough and minced onion.

Bake in a wood-fired adobe oven
in the dark heart of night
just north of Nogales
while you sing with coyotes
and breathe in the same stars
that you formerly
could not see inside the onion.

Serve in a paper bag.

Try to think your way out of it.

One comment

  1. bobsykes says:

    Your space!

    It is not just space (the moon, stars, etc.) but the space that preceded the actual body of the onion, that a priori thing, from which you can deduce the actual body of the onion. Our senses apprehend the onion. But, remove each one of our senses, and the onion disappears, everything, that is, but the space that housed the onion. That’s a hole our reasoning is unable to walk through; it sees the space left by the onion, and concludes the onion existed before our senses were able to apprehend it. It was there before we could actually taste it, feel it, see it, smell it. It existed prior to our actually experiencing the onion, in all of its ramifications, even onion soup!

    Its not just space — sun. moon and stars,
    Tis the eating of the onion,
    tells who we really are!

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