she didn't know..
until she knew
what a curve of learning!


1.
both college-students and real good-friends
he was a science-and-botany buff
            *and the mountain would get a taste of his cells
and she, student of philosophy and languages
            would hear the latent-message from a dozen sources


2.
they shared confidences to the other
things they never told a soul
            he also discussed his theories and science-experiments and projects and stuff
            she told him how slightly-uphill her lectures in Russian proved to be
they'd meet there every Monday.. under the campus-trees
with two hellish-strong espressos
        he remembered her chewy-doughnuts without any snow-sprinkles
        'cause she was given to these silly coughing-fits
        when eating peanuts and pulses
he teased her endless and ragged all her idiosyncrasies
they seemed closer than kin

yet he seemed to remain aloof when she tried to get closer
      he brushed off her advances
      and told her to get lost
then ran off with Lilian on Tuesday
then Zita next Tuesday
then Sumaya the following Wednesday
and Tarryn on Thursday after that
and so it went on for a whole while
the whole academic-year, in fact

yet still
      they studied together
      and swore in debates
      and met every Monday
oh, that was the one day he never dated


3.
on the first day of each month
he'd give her a beautiful clutch-pencil
its casing bled entirely in translucent-fuchsin
and told her to guard well context over content
she never understood this cryptic-crap
       but smilingly accepted each one
she thought them too pretty to use
       and kept them in a special-box
       yet her heart broke each time
he took out a new flavour-of-girl
and shared his tongue with
     Sally and Margaret and Lisbeth and Anne..
     some lasted days, others short-weeks
but they all fizzled out
like the pop that they swallowed
and she wondered if he would ever
              favour her with affection
              give to her what those lucky-gals got
              look into her eyes like that
              whisper sweet-nothings to her
why didn't he want her?

but he was brusque with her and abrupt as discordant-chords
he scolded her like uneven-bricks tumbling down
and yet, it was to her that he played
               his own alternate-ballads on his banjo
               i n t r i c a t e - b e a u t y like living-pearls on those strings
      he couldn't look at her, then
      too caught-up in sweet-delivery of song
and with his eyes closed, her imagination took high-flight
as she was able to stare at him, without fear
                           in wonder
                           in enchantment
and marvel at the mesmerising co-ordination of those busy-fingers..

others passed by, but he did not care.. so giving
she felt so unique
'cause she got what they did not
           unbreakable-bond of
            music and.. talk and.. those clutch-pencil gifts
and for his birthday, she gave him a two-tone pelargonium, potted in cream
left him wordless..


4.
it was near the end of November
(just like now:)
and he casually mentioned of going away
            a week-long hike in December
            with a girl in a group that he'd met, some Sarah or other
and something in her flared and she broke down..
                                                                ­went off the rails

he looked on aghast, in total silence.. half-perplexed, half-squinting
     which disquietened her far more than any outburst could have
he stood there before her, on that Monday
       in the beautiful mid-morning sun
she remembered, to the moment.. how the light caught his eyes
       seemed to be looking right t-h-r-o-u-g-h her
       and almost, she saw the tiniest-trace of something...
       struck by a touch of liquid-vulnerability in his being
but hooded-eyes quick again, typical-hider!

he reached into his backpack
****** her a clutch-pencil
which she almost rejected
but she calmed herself down
and he looked at her once
            turned on heel
and walked to his Beetle
rode off the campus
without looking back

and she kept on wondering what it was all about
       that silent intense-look


5.
news came of a group of hikers who succumbed
from high up
some slipped and
her acrid-tears were not the only to fall
upon learning......


6.
she ran back to her dorm
reached for his gifts.. in full-remorse
and clutching a pencil in each hand
she squeezed and accidentally pressed on the flick-top
and then...............
               (it came out)
i t . . . c a m e . . . o u t . . . ! !

never in her life would she be as stunned
as they repeated their message
     over and over
     in tandem audio-confusion
in all the tongues she had studied
she learns now
of the time he took to delve into her crap to relay his truth through his amazing-invention!


7.
at the interment, she couldn't speak
displacement dipped too deep
she took up one clutch-pencil
      and pressed on the top
      message loud and clear
custom-made brilliance direct from heaven's fingertips

the pall-bearers lifted him up
                 and
out of her life

now this roundabout-present lies in the velours-box
like he does in his



students of learning..
in book.. and in heart








S T - 25 nov 2013

The music plays and the espresso machines steam and hiss
Feet tap. Fingers type. Phone screens ******.

Skinny lattes and peppermint teas. Soy chai teas extra hot.
Peppermint soy latte. New names for familiar poisons.

Flat whites. Cortados. Espressos and macchiatos.
When I grew up, it was just a cup of coffee…

Hipster coffee shops serving to the hip, the wannabes and the lonely
The woman in the leopard skin coat and the man with acne.

Credit cards are swiped and cash machines ring
The business of poisons is thriving in the city.

Ok so the new mac software has a dictation program. I let it run during an animal physiology lecture, it was so funny I sort of turned it into poetry with a few modifications. (I took out words that it actually got right and were super science-y like T cells and also words like LRP that aren’t things and I only then changed punctuation and physical layout)

Let me know if you can find some meaning or humour in these found poems.

Steve bring it by

the new proteins bars

euros



without some for you

and your music

and also had pasta



see you

so he hears that

you first

use a euro or so

and phone

by a little while

see what is CCR



Heintz hearts tires

in this to the signal

Mickey’s

was so many years over many years.



He uses Stevens now

she is seeing proteins

and we don’t mayor

this is something for me and Olivia



So honestly it was something going on inside

and so is he is always something

when you see

here is the Winterlochen



7 mm,

one of the major cities,

you




search process

which look, it recognizes us

and what is the function ?



start by punching

in short call with the show

in law class this is a law



bread, espressos

:any

isolated



using my own postulations

to hear that fossil

fossil tires, the possibilities…

and here is a hot spot

deep blue sea

response was you

can see you later

mostly out you are

shouldn’t

parsing parties

and seems that all times

so we burgesses to see

whether these fees

so we are you

so busy

with the police officer



so this is the name

off for you Lisa

so is this needed ?

to serve on, since it’s always interesting

and if there is no proof

what is the man ?



Dennis, is the report from 17%?

raise my house and Sivula .

the left sense is the other

10% to leave myself

seven you get his sister.



Or from prefrontal cortex

you were able to listen

else and if we

so this show

on specific salsa

and effective T cell receptor activation





to decrease the settings

so sure so you transfected

as we buy one

a little simple

were able to game

is at seven

and we have two songs

this nonsense

if we were in Gennessee



tires times

who are noticed

that it is the same as control

were able to rescue the response

so by cars seem to be

a long *** tease you





Silverset

remember to Silversun

So we don’t

House and it’s just something so this shows



That Hughes

that Tersini

seems to be downstream

cheated is this

please rewrite Oterson



times we’ve started

for further brothers

specifically incontinence

ball, doesn’t you know the rest ?



of all conferences

and finish eyes gazing

into Cancun East



it’s consecutively

it doesn’t Vermarle



any if you have time

is there any messages

sorry

I was in response

to slight chance



you can also

it’s seven

and consider

you get a little more pronounced

decrease in Austin

so we see here

just curious

to be through soon

does it sound ?

and whether holiday,

actually awesome?

this medicine!

maybe you

got our road shows

to snooze constantly

is your sisters control as low ?

son



linguistically

“ hi you can see some more”

intense

bad

there’s greater

when an awesome

when you

The sky was filled with cumulonimbus clouds as they threatened to give way any time. Looking out of the window, I let out a little sigh.

Picking up my cup of cappuccino, I sipped it while opening a new tab to my email inbox.

The clouds remind me of you.

I hope you’re doing fine.

Things have been different ever since you went away, but I’m still trying to adjust to the current situation.

I remembered how I had first met you when you came to the bar where I was working as a barista.

It was raining that day and the café had fewer customers as compared to usual days.

You came in with an expressionless face and chose to sit at the furthest end of the counter – away from most of the crowd.

Shivering a little, you made eye contact with me and called me over.

You ordered something on the café’s hidden menu – Espresso with a hint of milk.

That was when we first started conversing.

“May I have an espresso with a hint of milk?”

“I’m surprised.”

“Sorry?”

“This is your first time coming here, isn’t it? Yet you are aware of our hidden menu.”

“I’m more surprised by how you’d know it’s my first time here.”

I brought your order and you gave me a smile so bright it stunned me.

It was really different from when you first stepped into the café.

“I like it here.”

I returned a smile and went back to my job.

From then on, you came quite often.

I’m not sure if it’s because you liked the atmosphere in the café but I was indeed elated to see you make return trips here.

Slowly, we started to chat more often whenever you came over and found out more about each other.

I loved animals.

You didn’t really take a liking to them.

Both of us love the aroma of coffee beans.

I hated whipped cream.

You loved it.

I liked bright colours.

You liked the monochrome range.

Your parents were hardly home.

My parents were always home.

I had siblings.

You were an only child.

I trusted people easily.

You never did until you really know them.

I liked being in a crowd.

You preferred solitude.

I joked that it’s because you liked solitude which was why you chose this particular seat.

You grinned at me, not saying a word.

Yet I knew what you wanted to say.

That’s right, Bingo.

You’d only order Espresso with a hint of milk.

It was always the same.

When we had few customers, I’d just lean on the counter and talk to you, watch you sip your espresso gracefully and letting out a contended sigh.

“I love the espresso here.”

“But why do you want a hint of milk in it?”

“I wanted to cover up part of the bitterness.”

“That’s so weird.”

“But that’s how I like my espressos.”

“Hmmm~ I only drink cappuccino.”

“And you’re working as a barista in a café. That’s weirder.”

“No it isn’t!”

I guess it was your queerness that attracted me.

After a period of time, we got closer and closer to each other.

That was also when we started going out for meals whenever I had the day off.

We built an unbreakable bond over the years.

But we were forced to separate.

Neither of us had control over it.

You

  
            Just
                


Left.

Things just changed.

I was in too much shock to respond when I heard what happened to you.

I tried to deny things.

But it was impossible.

I’d never have you by my side ever again.

I have been trying to comfort myself ever since then, telling myself that you would still be somewhere out there.

Watching over me.

Protecting me.

I hope you’re doing fine.

Maybe I’d meet you some day.




























If only Heaven accepted e-mails, I’d send you one everyday.

P.S. I really miss you.

P.P.S. A lot.

Oh to hear our pens together
scratching out dreams
on Italian linen paper,
while espressos cool
in the noonday breeze.
Wiping creme from your wind burned lips,  my toes find your cycling socks
and our eyes meet as if to ask.....
let's stay another day in Toscan....
Rome can wait.

light fixtures hanging down by a single wire,
a single lightbulb adorning the end.
large, gray and brown tiles checkered beneath my feet.
inviting leather arm chairs
caressing inviting cellular people
glued to their books or cellular phones.
warm, minty walls and a cool breeze through the door-
the chill of autumn-
so comforting.

older, disgruntled, bearded men- most likely freelance writers?
and soccer moms in yoga pants coming in for their six dollar lattes.
not to mention the elderly ladies here for coffee and book club...
the college student in a sweatshirt and jeans, fixated on typing-
two espressos in hand.
the baristas- in plaid shirts or floral dresses or striped blouses-
busily taking orders, pressing buttons, pulling levers, calling out coffees.

and me.
sitting in my black cafe chair at my caramel cafe table
with my large, smooth coffee, drowned in cream, and
with my .5 pilot pen in hand, and
with my old notebook before me.
writing the autumn morning away.

See Found Poems but these are my favourite.

1. without some for you

and your music

and also had pasta


2. 7 mm,

one of the major cities,

you

3.  search process

which look, it recognizes us

and what is the function ?

4. bread, espressos

:any

isolated


5. of all conferences

and finish eyes gazing

into Cancun East

Haha,



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXXXIII)


Of leprechauns and clover, yes...t'avail
I've neither, am in green to match fr'intents
Mine hazel eyes, and how blue heavns wear thence
Such fresh-washed golden light in sweet all hail
O me!  I'd feign go down which wooded trail
To hunt the early violets?  Mushrooms dense
Wi' import are sought out and sold for sense
Or lurid dreams, but I want that detail.
Wee white-striped, purple faces none bestir
'Cept wildest breezes, whitest virgins too,
With purple stripes across their miens in tour--
I'd love to bend and finger them anew!
Sip twa espressos, joking of, in poor
'Scuse, "faux" things we oft cherish, as all woo.

17Mar19a

I just came from the cafeteria. In a shocking twist,
I have to actually meet people, I mean, can you imagine?
And we have group projects, my least favorite thing,
except perhaps, having a gym class.

The cafeteria was so crowded—didn’t I see you there?

Everyone there seemed to be wearing vintage Urban Outfitters.
I felt left out, but no one openly pointed at me.

Next, I expect to see bubblegum patch vests, skate-fit jeans and leopard-appliqué flats.

Between us, I’ve gotten old, and lost what little fashion game I had.
Now I’m modulated, that is, I’m over over-indulgence.

When I pictured myself in college, ***, what, a half a decade ago?
I imagined myself in a Lime Fizz Dress from Modcloth.
THAT never happened—which is all for the good.

School and by extension - school work - is definitely happening.
It’s not all studying while drinking back-to-back espressos at sunrise.

This week’s assignments due are: a ‘reflective assignment’ on qualitative research methods, a policy memo, a case analysis, and a group presentation. Argh.

So if you don’t hear from me—I haven’t been deported—I’m just oppressed.
.
.
Songs for this:
This is Why by Paramore
Lauren by Men I Trust
Margaret by Pomegranate tea [E]

Um, um, don't let me parse that out yet.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDXLII)  


What of the two espressos long gone hence?
Perfection, as lunch' fine spread was t'avail.
Eclipsed in ya, one phone call, aught detail
Was likewise, 'cept our dinner, or the sense
Of fleeting time I grapple for now, whence
Oh me!  Now Texas winks at me like's bail,
Ten-gallon hats with crueler heat to scale
Than Lincoln's Land, and lo, a man fr'intents.
It's wonderful to be encouraged fer
All that to fear the LORD. I've missed it too
Long now.  To talk together like's not poor--
Of Scriptures--ah, and with a man.  I do
But fear now losing what's sae precious, were
It mine to have.  Ne coffee's like this brew.

06Aug17b

...I lose.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXXX)


Lo:  men.  Do NOT tell him, "I don't care hence
About you--" for whatever cause.  In pale
Excuse it's back on track and we're to scale
What, eh?  Forget the little things fr'intents:
Th'espressos Dad enjoyed with me; that sense
Of ah, delicious rain! The sweet detail
Of coffee with a dear friend--you prevail.
It does not matter what I try.  Now whence?
I messaged YOU on Instagram.  What fer?!
I'd comment on YOUR YouTube vids, and too,
Left one on Twitter.  YOU ignore all, poor
As trying to uh, communicate with YOU.
It's face to face:  that's all.  YOU win.  Ya, stir
Me to those "nutty smiles" oer...YOU.  What's...new?

02May19b

Funny...less that two weeks later how foreign this is.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXII)


Lo, ****** white tinged purple, for a sense
Of sorrows' keenest wailing, and so frail
To boot, lies now in state, as drying t'avail
The first petunia Joe gave me, what hence?
I wonder what the weekend shall from thence
Be, eh?  He's sposed to call.  Nor in betrayl
Does he know I'm a ******?  That detail
Waits chance to take its bow in sheer defense.
This white tank, pink-bowed floral skirt as twere
Ah, party clothes last summer when we'd brew
Espressos over beef, with wine to do
Our seance good in mid-July, was't poor
For groc'ry shopping?  I forgot.  His pure
Choice in a flowr--I can't help loving too.

30Jun17a

I could write poetry about your body;
how it moves so fluently,
so adept in navigating this physical world,
in exploring my own body.
I could write poetry about your love.
I had the chance to feel its depth
and watched you share it readily,
in the ways that you know how.
I could write poetry about us
dancing in your living room, about us
walking through neighborhood streets
with espressos in hand, about us
wrestling on the couch until we’re both
on the floor in a heap of laughter.

But if I did
I’d have to write poetry about your frustration
when you feel as if you’ve been
giving and giving and giving
only to have me pull away.
If I did, I’d have to write poetry about
my disappointment when I try to
go deeper into your pain, to burrow myself
in your trauma and infuse it with love,
with acceptance - only to be shut out.
I’d have to write poetry about our wounds
that stand between us like the Berlin Wall.
Too often they become ammunition;
your unconscious comments
infused with judgement and
my anxious retreat into myself
inflict more wounds, more grief.
I’d have to write about how you make me feel
beautiful
invalidated
comfortable
shameful
supported
misunderstood
difficult
wrong
selfish
hard to love

You make me feel hard to love
and I can’t live that way.

How many days ago was it blizzard conditions?!



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDXLV)


If warmth and rain conspired t'undo the hale
White blanket flung across these wastes, til hence
The silver puddles shine with ghastly thence
And wan miens like the moon, how in betrayl
Lawns late unmasked lie with an air of frail
Hopes violets soon shall wink, snow islands' sense
Of being alone upon that sea from whence
There's no return, forlorn like March'd prevail.
Blue skies for sweetest minutes peer in tour
Twixt greyer cloud racks like the waking view
Might have a softer breath in tow as twere,
While Daddy pulls espressos foamed milk to
Effect crowns with an April note.  Tis poor
Tae think December's gentle, but how'd woo.

02Dec18a

i see in pictures
no really, real pictures.
i still remember what the piazza looks like in my family's home town
its been 7 years.
i remember the old church next to it where they got married
i remember the stained glass windows along the walls
i remember the coffee shop across from the street that served espressos in tiny ornamental cups
i see it all.

7 years on and now i see you
i see you in that first red dress.
that first night with locks of hair that made me melt into the floor.
i see you in a dark cinema where i took the best risk of my life
where everything changed and now months later i see you
in a dress walking down the staircase
like an angel walking down from heaven.
i see you in my bed surrounded by the darkness of the night
your breath on me heavy with mine.
lost without a care.
i see you. by my side.
and i cant help but think how lucky i am.

as i write i view each moment like a photograph in my mind, some are fuzzy and unfocused but some are as clear as sunshine.
bright like the sunshine you are to me.

but i know, things are hard.
someone is going around stealing photos.
stealing images.
but we're going to take them back.

because i havent only seen and see now.
i can see what the future holds.
i can see the dew on the winter window and our faces pierced with sunlight.
i can see the nervousness of our first days into a new uni or work
and see the moment we reconvene at the end of the day to tell each other all about it
on the grassed steps of a sunken garden staircase holding hands
to birds chirping. sun shining or clouds pouring.
i can see us holding cups of tea watching ****** netflix shows
talking about anything everything
ill tell you the secrets of the universe as ill discover them
and later in the night,
we'll discover the secrets of our own hearts and souls.
between sheets. where we fall asleep to the sound of our own heartbeats
steady
steady.

i can see all of it.
clear as day even on a rainy night that this time may be to us.
to you.
you.
you did this to me.
you changed everything.
i can see all of it.
the future we could have with some time and hard work
with some love.
without letting anyone stand in our way.
because baby I'm ready to fall in love with you again and again
every single day because
i can see the future sometimes.
because i see in pictures.
no really, real pictures.
real pictures with real people like me
and you.
and us.

"...Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily/Life is but a dream!"  (Row, Row, Row Your Boat)



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCL)


Wash dinner dishes after dark for sense,
To rise and wash the dishes 'gain, t'avail,
In such wee hours tis night still in betrayl,
The hellish nightmare I was jolted thence
From for this lukewarm taste of what fr'intents
I like to think is sweetest minutes' pale
Chance, hark to rain cuz traffic'd shush in frail
Notes by, to trundle off to work, ah whence?
It's like our sleep was but a nap in tour.
And I half cherish that vague sense we knew
Ere dawn, as blueish twilight warms, astir,
Not lost in slumber, freighted chances to--
What, eh?  I do not know.  Espressos fer
Time to just savour coffee are good too.

04Apr19c

Well?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXLIV)


Blue skies lo, nary cloud blots for intents
Warm on these frozen wastes as trash' detail
Flirts 'cross the puddles like a bird in pale
Excuse who, washing up as wont, shakes thence
His wings, light flashing off them with a sense
Of summer's carefree minutes, whiles to scale
Ice glares more coldly from the corners frail
Ghosts of thin warmth ne'er touch but tis pretense.
Dad pulls espressos, foaming milk in tour
As all baristas, yet sans flourish, to
Leave that to sheer caprice I find as twere,
Whiles I feign then to ascertain a view
Of this or that, which he half tol'rates fer
The mystry is't? of all we sorta knew.

03Mar19b

Don't worry, darling
the ocean will be only a
memory, one day,

the wild waves a footnote
in the story of your
meandering life

we will meet occasionally,
drinking espressos in
the heart of London

imagining we are somewhere
(anywhere) else

but eventually, you will
forget me, and I will

not shake my limbs
into yours, worrying
about breaking the

skin. We are not
endless and forever
is now

Tea is my favorite beverage and iced is the delight
Biscotti or Mandel Bread seems to be the perfect partner
This breakfast started for me in Florence ,Italy
Espressos and Lattes surrounded me ,
Yet there was a tall frosted glass
That was everyday in Italy and sometimes at home
Have teas from all over the world and enjoy Harney’s Teas
Passion fruit delights me
Sometimes my writing companion because it is easy and free
Weather permitting, I bake my own for that is a quiet joy
Iced Tea and Biscotti
Cheers
C@rainbowchaser 2023

That fact is what troubles my men.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCLXXI)


Snow diamonds scintillate as wont in pale
And lonely lamplight, blacker depths just hence
On all sides in the wee hours where I thence
Look out the kitchen window to avail
Long after midnight.  Then where dawn's eye'd hail,
Blue shadows cozen that small corner whence
See in the winking shafts how lo, they fence
The view with dazzling sparkles like to scale.
Tis Sunday.  Noon haunts plans whiles O! in poor
'Scuse ne espressos for this morning to
Effect finds me half wandring like to stir
Aught else might well, um, cure me. What is new?
We're captives, sold unto which potion fer
Our souls?  The racking clouds leave snow blind too.

27Jan19a