Re: Mike's Coffee



"Beau Blue" <Beau_Blue@xxxxxxxxxxx> schrieb im Newsbeitrag
news:ha1pc3t2ucpt1u5ba50ispmalc2v8bsv29@xxxxxxxxxx
"nerissa" <nerissa@xxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:


"Beau Blue" <Beau_Blue@xxxxxxxxxxx> schrieb im Newsbeitrag
news:9jooc3hbo6b2u0aaln7l93a69qq13drsjm@xxxxxxxxxx

Coffee
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An old man looks out his window, watching a bus pull
away and cross the intersection. He turns from the window
holding his coffee cup, swirling it although there is no
coffee in it, considers taking a bath. She always told him not
too much coffee, just the one cup in the morning, and
that he should remember to bathe every day, as these were
the kinds of things he would soon forget once she was
gone. He places his cup among others in the sink. The
bathtub is clean and damp, still warm. He sits on the toilet
and watches as the tub fills. By custom, he draws too
much water, so that some always runs out the overflow as
he gets in, leaving behind as much water as will fit,
making a sound he's always liked hearing. He images a
spider trapped in the overflow, washing down the pipes.
As he slides into the water he thinks of her, and although
she is not here to scrub his back he smiles. His toes surface
and submerge, and he watches them break through floating
rafts of soap bubbles, then sink again, like a shipwrecked
crew of drowning men. After his bath the water circles
down the drain, but without his glasses he cannot tell if the
whirlpool drains with or counter to the clock, although he
understands or thinks he remembers that it always turns the
same way, like a dog circling nose to tail on a carpet looking
for that one best spot. The word "coriolis" slowly
surfaces and submerges again in his mind, and eyes closed
he watches it as from a moving vehicle, experiences it as
he would a neon sign flashing past in the nighttime. He
makes a note on his mental blackboard to watch closely
next time which way the water circles as it drains. He smiles
again, as he can have his coffee now that he has bathed.

-McNeilley

~ Beau Blue Presents ~ <> http://members.cruzio.com/~jjwebb
Bill Minor * Robert Sward <> Internet Broadsides
Morton Marcus * Renay <> Contemporary American Poetry
~ Blue's Cruzio Cafe ~ <> http://members.cruzio.com/~cafe


Thanks for posting this one, jj. It reminds me of another one:

surface tension
----------------------------------

funny how the trivial
triggers my memory
of margaret

when she rinsed the dishes
she always swiped her
hand across the
plate to break
the surface
tension
of the
water

and ever
since margaret
I have done
the same

reminding
me every day
of the woman
I should
have kept
and didn't

broke
the surface
tension

let
her go down
the drain

--Greg Jungheim
Chicago
January 23, 1998

She,
~~~~~~~

When photographed with her second son,
another of those bright, angry runts,
held him the way she held her face:

like stone. He later said: "My daddy liked
partying. To raise money for these events,
he would send his sons to clear land,

slash elderberries, cut pokeweed, and burn
poison ivy by the week, trying to keep
upwind. We would plant sweet potato slips,

hoe, hill, and weed, and carry summer water.
He'd watch from the cool pine's shade,
then chase us off and carry away the harvest

to trade for Early's whiskey in Powder Springs.
That crop would last one moonlit night.
He was strong enough to enforce such dealings,

yet she did one day set his bag by the open gate,
with his hat, his pipe, two dollars and a nickel change.
He knew right then he'd not be coming back."

-Richard Bear
3/21/97


This was not Dancing Bear, no?


< how far away it was > by ray heinrich 1996

i'm standing over my father
in the hospital
he's stopped breathing
i'm holding his neck
and shoulder
and i've been rubbing them
because he always liked that
and it's the best i can do
while i'm waiting for him to die

waiting for his next breath

and it comes

and another

and then

i'm waiting for his next breath again

and i count

one thousand and one
one thousand and two
one thousand and three

like he taught me
standing in our garage
watching a thunderstorm
on the gulf coast of texas
sometime
when i was maybe six
he taught me to count
between the lightning flash and the thunder
taught me to figure out
how far away it was

- - -

/ comments sent to r...@xxxxxxxx almost always make this \
\ seriously whimsical hobbyist poet pathetically happy. /
/ word-biscuit site: http://www.vais.net/~heinrich/wb/ \
\ and all this (including your stuff if you don't watch /
/ out): (C) 1996 ray heinrich except for this here: frog \








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