First cup of coffee for night shift: 9pm. This whole being a verb is a serious business. I forget the name of the phase of the moon like I forgot the name of the first girl I loved. The warm air makes for a thinner veil. Ghosts mingle with tourists wandering the midnight wharf, trying to talk them into swimming. The interstate moans through the hours. I’ve lose count of the cups of coffee.
Tag Archives: coffee
stirring for night watch, putting on beans, preparing coffee left by my love, listening to my granddaughter upstairs
there is no silence here
it is good
echo lo la… and coffee
this morning coffee sunrise back-lit
a relief in relief
this morning soaked in silence
between notes of domestic orchestration
this morning begins another billion universes
of beginnings