Morning Movement

The morning breathes fumes of kerosene
A heater whines, sputters, and heaves
Air ‘s distraught with caw-blazened beaks
I sip my coffee; the first of three

Bags rustle with the patio wind
While snow tops buckle – rescind
My reflection lost mirror appears thin
Yet the visage implores a gap-toothed grin

And I am vain with these bags for eyes
The night hangs her weary beneath these eyes
And riddles the mornings where there too arise
A memory of youth placed deep in these lines

Checkered, cross-hatched, burned deep in the space
That rests on the octave above forty-eight
Where I now sit, morning coffee in hand
The first of three sipped through a gap-toothed grin

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2 thoughts on “Morning Movement

  1. Like the flow of your words very much! I chanced upon your site searching under omnificent jester which during a game somehow described me. Will continue reading – don’t sound too mediocre to me… best to you.

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