Notes That Started The Morning Fire.
I burnt my breakfast with brown butter and garlic.
It rose above the perfumed oiled scent of progress;
—creeping through the cracks of my window sills
wafting silently, carrying the day’s
chain-linked smog…breaking in with
—my paycheck’s upcoming arena.
Oops, I meant, aroma.
For a moment I choose to linger
asking for only a cherry tree.
I welcome the reservation that you
have set aside for me.
No need to build me a fence—
I am locked inside.
Do I talk to myself? Me and him?
Of course! Who else would listen?
How would I know when to stoke the wood stove
and make coffee, home fries, and scramble eggs?
I always tell myself what to do.
I am vetted by my soul,
The web, trickling inadvertently behind me, as I walk through space
Connects me to another square that I had left!
Never touching the ground, I wait with patience
in silk expectation —for a life, now to be defined.
The thread of your existence is never behind!
Nor could it manufacture a web to connect
to illusive time!
Shake off that wiggle… trickling inadvertently behind!
Hey! Anyone up for coffee, home fries, and scramble eggs?