The vessel clanking on the surface resounds,
amidst the bellowing of steam gaining momentum.
He pours it over the tiny pieces of fortune,
the dried flecks take on a new dimension,
a fat, chunky texture that clogs the morning spirit.
Sipping, distracted by the lack of a cage,
time scratching at all his senses,
evoking the image of a twisted, scragely tree branch falling.
As much gravity as on any other day,
today is the day he succumbs.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
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