Wednesday, April 21, 2010

the tea ceremony

Pain in slivers.
It shoots out of my leg like
Leaves off a branch
before they're picked.

A white sheath of white rises up and then
falls away in pieces
like petals on a buckthorn tree.

And then a shiver of interest
In a thought or a pot
Of tea.

Discomfort quivers up
like a lazy tea leaf
opening in hot water.

The edge seeps out
diffuses into a mellow brew of unrest
that rivers through me

and then it builds again
bubbling over with the power on high and as it comes to the boil it could be

I am intoxicated.

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