A vast cosmos swirls within my cup its hue reminiscent of
rich earth – this is how I savour the celestial dance of stars that
illuminate my dawn. The birds are chirping; their incessant
calls grating to someone still caught in the clutches of sleep,
an hour past their awakening.

I crave the warm embrace of those first sips, the aroma of
a universe enveloping my senses – those dulled nerve endings
yearning for that electric jolt to awaken my body, sounds ringing
sharp like a sudden jolt to the ear, quickly grounding me in
the present. My eyes, keen as a blade, slice through the haze of
distraction, honing in on clarity.

As I speak, relishing that fleeting moment of joy, the kettle
whistles its urgent call – a signal for the morning coffee I so
desperately seek.

coffee rings stain the tablecloth
empty creamer pods pile up by the silverware.
the old man finishes his omelet off
while his grandson rocks in his chair.
the new dads outside smoke and cough
avoiding their wives' disapproving glare.
the waitress sits me at a tabletop
and I take in the fullness of the air.
the light in the room takes me like a moth
a moment fleeting is still a moment worth the care.
I eat breakfast every Saturday at Roth's
this diner where all our stories are shared.

Those days when you just can’t wait to go to bed.
Not to slump down onto it in yielding surrender
or fall into it in tears, face first and meat red,
but to gently pull back the pillowy quilt
and the sheets, with tiny blue flowers,
flannelette, like a fresh work shirt,
so that when you slide in carefully
and make your cave in the sheets
the hug is work-arm strong
and reminds you of soil
and wheelbarrows
and gardening
and building
in the sun
as it sets…
and rises…
open eyes
still hugged,
you stand lightly
then soft pad to warm,
dark, sweet, pitch-bitter
coffee, and lifting the mug,
you pause before the first sip
of bliss, flooding deep in waking
flavours from magic beans grown
in ancient Ethiopian forests, noticed
by folk when curious goats turned zestful,
becoming a helper for evening prayer, to allow
hard work and intentional presence to earn well
your tiredness, so that you just can’t wait to go to bed…

Two dark eyes
Like two drops of warm coffee
Lips so soft, taste so sweet
My heart skips a beat.
You look real in my dreams,
Unreal infront of me.
That smile might be the impending death of mine.
Or cure me.
I don't care.
Don't care of this height if I'm falling for you.
Don't care if I lose you along the way.
These fleeting moments are enough when I'm with you.
Let's not chase forever.
Let's hold onto the seconds.
Perhaps we should freeze time
Like the freezing air.
Still life pictures of moments.
Don't you disappear now! No!
Let me hold your hands once
In my trembling ones.
Before I let you go.

There is no graceful transition
of a cup of hot hot coffee
from one hand to another hand,
the cup only has one handle.

It is inherantly akward,
almost as if it’s intended,
a brief, forced, colaboration
to keep the coffee in the cup.

Contorting to not spill a drop,
Still, clumbsy, after these long years
and a thousand repetitions,
ten thousand hot cups of coffee.

We angle ourselves to the task,
a brief intimate fumbling,
until the cup is handed off,
and the best part of it is gone.

                                     -Still Here

Country nighttime turned off the world
Absolute window blacking
Any other life void-invisible
Universe shrunk snack-size
Existence is only this cab,
these tiny lights,
this fuzzing radio
One direction
Only ahead
Only these tracks

A change in rhythm signals new territory
Lower infrastructure spend
Budget acknowledged by
transitioning drum track
More toms
Double kick
More bass, but
no less hypnotising, no less soporific, no less slowing, no less…

Snap.
Driver vigilance alarm earns its keep
Pierced by safety sound needles
Bleary eyes split open
Only closed for seconds
Enough to dry 3am eyelash glue
Intermittent, intensifying battle
Open versus closed
Here versus where
Wake versus yawning, rocking, mesmerising, irresistible…

Snap.
Assistance required
Scan for options
Snoozing thermos drools its last drips onto the floor mat
Moment of silence for coffee, our absent friend
What else?
Lunch box offers carrot sticks
Sharp, crisp, smug
No help. What else? Cake.
A silent bargain
– okay calories, we’ve had our differences, but we need to pull together
Health is tomorrow, safety is now

Sleepiness shrinks and stretches place and time
There is only here
Only now
Battle and bargains
Winning and losing
Until the sun comes up

Poorly holding up to the harsh assault
Mal reggendo all’aspro assalto
well, if that's so, aight,
and this is the test, we took  it,

what would ya thank for that, eh?

Heavy metal, anvils are the archetype,
before Iron Horses and world tying steel
industrial spirit to try like hell
to move a mountain told to move,
ai, we had a form of free press, indeed

and steam, bound in cylinders ground
and smoothed to specs a micron or two
from perfectly round, squared center to edge,
by pi, the idea, we need
to make compassion,
compass me round about, and think me mad,
with deep and sensitive gentle assurance,
ai, we made the crossing, we're on
the other side.

I'm not, I am a little drunk.
Rare state, feels familiar, kind of rejuvenating.

Wisdom smiles on those who try,
and try again.

Remember all this is after we won heaven,
by being invincibly ignorant as to why not.