I woke up and I had an idea
I set the water to boil
And emptied the tea pot of unfinished tea and soiled bags.
Brimming like the water boiling
Of thoughts and inspirations
Maybe it was indigestion or leftover dreams from the night
Or just a mind coming to terms with the noon day sun blinding it
But I sat down dreaming of Corso
Haunted by waspy roman catholic guilt
Even though I’m Slavic Orthodox Athiest Canadian
Trying to hard to make it seem more like a poem
And after my third cup of tea, black now bitter
Wired up,
I forgot what I was trying to say
Or what the point was
Here is this as a consolation
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