Adoff's latest batch of broken-line prose poems have a little more crunch than most of their predecessors. Enjoyment of food is the theme, with the author proclaiming his extravagant love for chocolate (""i/love/you so/i/want/ to/marry/you/and/live/forever/in the/flavor/of your/brown""), his allegiance to apple pie (""i pledge my loyalty/ to apple pie""), his inability to resist gooey junk (""you are no good/ for me/you are no good/ you are so good""). Many of the entries are pleasantly playful (""Dinner Tonight/ is hiding/ in a mystery of steam/ from/ the bowl of/ spaghetti. . . we/ must make our way through/ oregano fogs. . . into a parmesan dream. . .""), some more whimsically so (a giant flying Twinkle with cake bombs lands on the White House lawn). For some of the more reverently eulogized dishes there are also recipes, in the same free-verse format, and Rasso ices the cake attractively with broccoli-tree landscapes, borders of apple parings, or a Night Kitchen-like foodtown with milkcarton buildings and oreo bus wheels.