Empty Coffee Cup

This dimly-lit café, there’s a voice then two, then three speaking like a broken triangle with so much impatience. Winter, dense and black, crams itself into this room. Outside, muted colors are carried off in the night. I…
This dimly-lit café, there’s a voice then two, then three speaking like a broken triangle with so much impatience. Winter, dense and black, crams itself into this room. Outside, muted colors are carried off in the night. I…
Below the spoken world, In scales and brilliance The blade-like fish Shimmer In the water’s sky. I look down At the relaxed voice Of the lake Holding morning’s light Then again holding change. The sunrise as lamp And shadows from…