W-2s
Rhyme with Blues
With reason.
Tax season
Is daunting,
Complex, taunting,
That income seductive
Precludes much deductive
And oil lease dribbles
At refundage nibbles.
So pre-prep ordeal
Let’s have a good meal
And not let our eggs nor our dark thoughts congeal.
The soup is turnip and yellow and bell pepper and barley and vegetable stock and three carrots, softened to succulence in a crockpot overnight
The coffee is from Sumatra, recommended by a magnificently tattooed artisan who makes bells as part of one of Arcosanti’s revenue streams
The coffee is in a mug that the maker calls “The Anarchy Cup,” inspired by a former co-worker who denounced all politicians
And is flavored with half&half and blue agave syrup recommended by an architect friend whose designs were incorporated into buildings made throughout the Valley of the Sun over forty-five years
The bowl of soup is gone but there’s more in the crockpot, cooling
Dessert is Whoppers with the coffee that helps the chocolate dissolve to uncover the malted-milk core
And the Whoppers remind the bachelor of going to the movies with his daughter, now estranged
It is a layered breakfast laced with memory and reminder
Unconventional unto weirdness
Richly satisfying
high-protein, low carb, says my muse/in massachusetts, and approves./the birds i made/are indifferent, being inanimate. one/needs a prosthesis or two/since her beak was lost in the kiln fire.
coffee/sipped from a cup made three weeks ago/with my own hands and mind/kona, classic black/fills my spirit.
I have heard and read that the most popular beginning for the lyrics to a blues song is “Woke up this morning…” I think I know why: every day is like a little lifetime, and when you wake up you are born.
the day be
gins with ligh
tened sky, with
coffee drip, with bright-hurt
eye–& when you
get a Breakfast
in you, time will let
the day continue.
One with Clay, Image and Text 