Round off

When you will touch the face of my coffee cup,

You will find it as hot as my eyelids

Steaming with the coal-churning factory.


I push my left eye back into her cave

And the workmen brim up with coal

Grinning nihilistically, I savour the numb

Off upon the afternoon breeze;

It is like falling off the wagon in a noonish nap.


My muscles lisp.

I crunch upon the devil’s shoe like an autumn leaf

And I free horses in the wild, wild corporate-shunned woods.


These factories that are precise spaces;

Poets from different ages break upon its machinery

Till it will turn blue holding out breath,

Like a fish in a noodle bowl, leaps

—in a sound midnight dream.


Here this was my attempt,

Some may choose to call it inactivity or debt.

But the coals slide off the eye-cliff until dayfall,

And then

classroom-envy will cease hold.


I refrigerate my coffee and wait for night to chirrup.




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