on newly cutting coffee
on newly cutting coffee
I am a glass of fizzy water,
that fizzes,
though, the fizzes are starting to dissipate.
this is how it feels.
on newly cutting coffee
even the word looks different.
less friend:
it has cheek.
two “e”s that look at me.
I lie in wait of sleep
and am a disc of batter,
thin, not yet settled in the pan,
made of water and flour,
beaten to combine
to the texture of single cream
on the kitchen counter. thin.
funny:
it doesn’t feel like I am standing up when I lie down,
like it did last week
I wait for sleep and do not force contortion,
I am alone waiting for sleep.
Waiting to not be in the waking mind.
My drawing is looser,
and when I write an equation the “x”s are less upright.
they are round and flow.
they share space with the “y”s.
I am able to sit and attend to reading twenty pages without distraction.
I do not know about this enforced section of time.
I suppose it is good just to act as bookend,
to know the decompression period is over
this is the beginning of the next
-
to be able to name events as before or after this version of London
I like the routine of it,
but sometimes that can be a negative crutch
To wake up and always smell coffee.
I have not been truly alone in a year and a half
If I walk the pavements and come across a place to rest my feet,
how long do I allow myself to stay there?