life is a bowl of coffee…

          … well, something like that. it was for about an hour, anyway– life was a bowl of hot coffee.                   fresh, hot, milky coffee.                             this little bit of time made me happy. well, many moments do.                       impermanent moments. fleeting moments.                   but, in retrospect…

coffee and dark sky and love at the window

grab some coffee… and what ever else.   everyone stops and break for love… and all we dream about is love. right? i mean, don’t you ? that’s all. we just day dream… love in the morning and love in the afternoon. and, love,  while the lunches are being made. and the morning rush hour is making us curse underneath our breath and fowl language is forcing its way out between our tight pursed lips…love. all we want to do is sit down and say fuck it. …i love you…. (be late to…

lalalalala…

i like to write. sometimes i make sense to some people. other times, and, often times i don’t make sense at all. not to me- not to you. sometimes i come back here and wonder why i shared this and  that. and i wonder… um why the hell was thinking like that. sometimes i wrinkle my eyebrow and think, ‘huh?’ and other times i cover my mouth in shock…and raise my eyebrows… and so what?! the mind is so fucking beautiful. and …so i write… well, when i lose my memory, i hope…

I took your coffee cup

The tie doesn’t suit  you.  The color is nice, but , I imagine , the tie is too small. I hope you don’t mind,  but I took your mug this morning. We can share it? Or we can trade,…I can give you my jammies? Or…. But maybe you’ve already had your coffee ? …well , take another cup. mornings are for oversized coffee cups and love songs…. and if you’ve had your cup this morning, then, here , take my jammies. ..  common sense doesn’t start until mid day. And…

My Sunday Best: ode to my coffee (with video)

hello… and down below there is pure poesy. really :) the cell fone alarm goes off in the morning time excuse me while I think of a meaningful rhyme. I contemplate a run and go out for some playing but i think of you,  and decide to stay in. i stretch a little and get up slowly  out of my bed still in a haze but with you in my head in to the kitchen i clumsily stumble mmm , and when i see you a practically crumble off to some…

day 20 – sitting still with coffee cup

sitting with my coffee. waiting for my cup of tortilla soup. fuel before some christmas shopping. happy friday. :) pretty mellow. soup was good. so… when i was growing up, my mother would make us soups. chicken soup, tomato soup, mexican squash soup, beef stew, seafood soup, lentil soup…. soups, soups, soups. to make it fun, she would toast or heat up tortillas and cut them into little strips or what ever shape she was in the mood for and she’d decorate our soups with the pieces. and voila! tortilla…