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Morning Dew

morning dew
the smell of coffee
from upstairs.

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Java Blues

Rick danko
I walked into a diner
And the blonde behind the counter
She asked if she could help in any way
Hell, I knew by her smile
Her number I could dial
If I was in the need of company
But as I bought some java
Instead she brought me a cup of chicory
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
Dont pour me water just fill up my cup
You know it takes a lot just to keep me up
Cost may be more than you care to pay
What good is money compared to fightin pain
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh coffee, oh coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
The taste of java is like a cocaine rush
Nobodys gonna stop me from drinkin too much
Down in bolivia the people are insane
They want as much for coffee as they do for cocaine
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
The coffees got me now..
Java blues

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song performed by Nazareth
Added by Lucian Velea
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Coffee

Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee
affords. I once read something about coffee. The thing said that coffee is good for you;
it stimulates all the organs.
I thought at first this was a strange way to put it, and not altogether pleasant, but
as time goes by I have found out that it makes sense in its own limited way. I'll tell you
what I mean.
Yesterday morning I went over to see a girl. I like her. Whatever we had going for us
is gone now. She does not care for me. I blew it and wish I hadn't.
I rang the door bell and waited on the stairs. I could hear her moving around upstairs.
The way she moved I could tell that she was getting up. I had awakened her.
Then she came down the stairs. I could feel her approach in my stomach. Every step she
took stirred my feelings and lead indirectly to her opening the door. She saw me and it
did not please her.
Once upon a time it pleased her very much, last week. I wonder where it went,
pretending to be naive.
"I feel strange now," she said. "I don't want to talk."
"I want a cup of coffee," I said, because it was the last thing in the world
that I wanted. I said it in such a way that it sounded as if I were reading her a telegram
from somebody else, a person who really wanted a cup of coffee, who cared about nothing
else.
"All right," she said.
I followed her up the stairs. It was ridiculous. She had just put some clothes on. They
had not quite adjusted themselves to her body. I could tell you about her ass. We went
into the kitchen.
She took a jar of instant coffee off the shelf and put it on the table. She placed a
cup next to it, and a spoon. I looked at them. She put a pan full of water on the stove
and turned the gas on under it.
All this time she did not say a word. Her clothes adjusted themselves to her body. I
won't. She left the kitchen.
Then she went down the stairs and outside to see if she had any mail. I didn't remember
seeing any. She came back up the stairs and went into another room. She closed the door
after her. I looked at the pan full of water on the stove.
I knew that it would take a year before the water started to boil. It was now October
and there was too much water in the pan. That was the problem. I threw half of the water
into the sink.
The water would boil faster now. It would take only six months. The house was quiet.
I looked out the back porch. There were sacks of garbage there. I stared at the garbage
and tried to figure out what she had been eating lately by studying the containers and
peelings and stuff. I couldn't tell a thing.
It was now March. The water started to boil. I was pleased by this.
I looked at the table. There was the jar of instant coffee, the empty cup and the spoon
all laid out like a funeral service. These are the things that you need to make a cup of
coffee.
When I left the house ten minutes later, the cup of coffee safely inside me like a
grave, I said, "Thank you for the cup of coffee."
"You're welcome," she said. Her voice came from behind a closed door. Her
voice sounded like another telegram. It was really time for me to leave.
I spent the rest of the day not making coffee. It was a comfort. And evening came, I
had dinner in a restaurant and went to a bar. I had some drinks and talked to some people.
We were bar people and said bar things. None of them remembered, and the bar closed. It

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Brautigan from Revenge of the Lawn (1971)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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That Smell

Whiskey bottles, and brand new cars
Oak tree you're in my way
There's too much coke and too much smoke
Look what's going on inside you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Angel of darkness is upon you
Stuck a needle in your arm
So take another toke, have a blow for your nose
One more drink fool, will drown you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Now they call you Prince Charming
Can't speak a word when you're full of 'ludes
Say you'll be all right come tomorrow
But tomorrow might not be here for you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Hey, you're a fool you
Stick them needles in your arm
I know I been there before
One little problem that confronts you
Got a monkey on your back
Just one more fix, Lord might do the trick
One hell of a price for you to get your kicks
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you

song performed by 3 Doors Down
Added by Lucian Velea
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That Smell

(allen collins - ronnie vanzant)
Whiskey bottles, and brand new cars
Oak tree youre in my way
Theres too much coke and too much smoke
Look whats going on inside you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Angel of darkness is upon you
Stuck a needle in your arm
So take another toke, have a blow for your nose
One more drink fool, will drown you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Now they call you prince charming
Cant speak a word when youre full of ludes
Say youll be all right come tomorrow
But tomorrow might not be here for you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Hey, youre a fool you
Stick them needles in your arm
I know I been there before
One little problem that confronts you
Got a monkey on your back
Just one more fix, lord might do the trick
One hell of a price for you to get your kicks
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you

song performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Added by Lucian Velea
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Franklins Tower

In another times forgotten space
Your eyes looked from your mothers face
Wallflower seed on the sand and stone
May the four winds blow you safely home.
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Ill tell you where the four winds dwell
In franklins tower there hangs a bell
It can ring, turn night to day
It can ring like fire when you loose your way.
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
God save the child that rings that bell
It may have one good ring, baby, you cant tell
One watch by night, one watch by day
If you get confused listen to the music play.
(instrumental)
Some come to laugh their past away
Some come to make it just one more day
Whichever way your pleasure tends
If you plant ice youre gonna harvest the wind.
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
In franklins tower the four winds sleep
Like four lean hounds the lighthouse keep
Wildflower seed on the sand and wind
May the four winds blow you home again.
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Youd better roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew
Youd better roll away the dew - roll away.

song performed by Grateful Dead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Morning Dew

(bonnie dobson and tim rose)
Walk me out in the morning dew, my honey.
Please walk me out in the morning dew, sometime.
Cant walk you out in no morning dew. Im sorry, Im sorry.
Cant walk you out in no morning dew.
Thought I heard a young man cryin.
Thought I heard a young man cryin today.
You didnt hear no young man cryin.
You did not hear no young man cryin.
Thought I heard a young girl cryin.
Thought I heard a young girl cryin.
You, you did not hear no young girl cryin.
Im sorry but you know it is [true].
You did not hear no young man cryin.
Now there is no more morning dew.
Now there is no more morning dew.
What theyve been saying all these god-darn years has come true,
I knew it would too.
Now theres no more morning dew.
Now there is no more morning dew, at all, oh.
Now there is no more morning dew.
Because, because, because,
What theyve been saying all these years has come true,
You know, and only you know,
That theres no more morning dew.
Now, now there is no more morning dew.
People, you know that theres no more morning dew.
Because, because,
What theyve been saying all these years has come true,
It had to happen.
You know, that theres no more morning dew.

song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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Coffee!

Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Come Upstairs

(carly simon/mike mainieri)
Sitting in a car here
After a party where weve seen
Everyone weve known for years
Well Ive known you for years
Oh but now its all changed
And all of my feelings
Have been rearanged
(chorus)
Come upstairs
Well be all alone
Come upstairs
No one will know
Come upstairs
We can take of the phone
Come upstairs
You can take of my clothes
Say that it feels good
Maybe too good to say that it feels like a dream
You want to knock on some wood
Well Ill give you some wood
And Ill give you some fire
Ill give you myself
And I will show you my desire
Come upstairs
Well have a few laughs
Come upstairs
Well take a bath
Come upstairs
Its only one flight
Come upstairs
You can stay overnight
Ill give you some wood
Yeah, Ill give you some fire
Ill give you myself
And I will show you my desire
Chorus

song performed by Carly Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

[...] Read more

poem by Talile Ali
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Morning Dew

Walk me out in the morning dew my honey,
Walk me out in the morning dew today.
I cant walk you out in the morning dew my honey,
I cant walk you out in the morning dew today.
I thought I heard a baby cry this morning,
I thought I heard a baby cry this today.
You didnt hear no baby cry this morning,
You didnt hear no baby cry today.
Where have all the people gone my honey,
Where have all the people gone today.
Theres no need for you to be worrying about all those people,
You never see those people anyway.
I thought I heard a young man morn this morning,
I thought I heard a young man morn today.
I thought I heard a young man morn this morning,
I cant walk you out in the morning dew today.
Walk me out in the morning dew my honey,
Walk me out in the morning dew today.
Ill walk you out in the morning dew my honey,
I guess it doesnt really matter anyway,
I guess it doesnt matter anyway,
I guess it doesnt matter anyway,
Guess it doesnt matter anyway.

song performed by Grateful Dead
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Dew Drops Mist

Whatever it is that you've been told...
As the dew drops mist,
Each morning that unfolds...
Mother Nature to this is committed.
To all things that exist.
And even you and I...
We are caught up the mix.

Whatever the season that comes to leave,
We may have our differences and do not agree.
But,
Nonstop Mother Nature shows...
Everything that lives,
She assists its growth.

And you and I can do what we like.
In between the fussing, cussing and fights.
You and I can decide to hide or be seen...
But mother Nature is there!
And always on the ecene.

It doesn't matter if we chit chat or scatter.
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
It doesn't matter if we scatter without chatter.
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
And,
We can be a little rich or poor.
Or never answer a knock on our doors.
It doesn't matter if we chit chat or scatter.
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.

Whatever the season that comes to leave,
We may have our differences and do not agree.
But,
Nonstop Mother Nature shows...
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.

Every morning when you're yawning and it's dawn,
On this existence the dew drops mist.
It doesn't matter in your life what's going on,
'Cause...
In this existence the dew drops mist.

Whatever it is that you've been told...
As the dew drops mist,
Each morning that unfolds...
Mother Nature to this is committed.
To all things that exist.
And even you and I...
We are caught up the mix.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Virgin's Dew

Virgin's dew reminds me of you
bathing in bond of lover's hue.

Virgin's dew, Le juste milieu:
when we're
'Here',
en France;
solving the green, red and gold.

Virgin's dew chains me to you;
'mordial mortal matrix,
duplicitous double helix:
alchemic sol et lune.

Virgin's dew tries me too...
how I put up with your husband and
all of his pitifully-insignificant whinings of
something which mercifully escapes me right now.

But virgin's dew endears me to virtue;
that giggling little girl I woke up with,
frolicking unashamed
in the mouth of our naked morning star.

Virgin's dew, my babe of the Babylon blue.
So 'deuscing and delicate, inspirate you:
Slut and my Savior;
'suaging, sagely screw.

Virgin's dew smells like you
sweating magic tears of pheromone
in the light of God's very own breath.

And virgin's dew fuels fantasies of you
when I'm all by my lonesome,
in sublimest, finest fucking form I
cannot help but possibly think of you.

Virgin's dew, my tailored taste of taboo:
kissing Rose Crosses with a feather of silk
on this begging body when I'm all tied-up.

Yes, virgin's dew still reminds me of you
when I'm not quite finished here yet;
savoring enigmatic, idiosyncratic,
mmm... samadhic you.

Virgin's dew, my confessor & confidant who
calls on God with my feeble name of something less;
I am not worthy of you.

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poem by Randy Resh
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The Counsellors

AS I went a-walking
Through the Morning Land,
Up came Folly
And took me by the hand;
Garbed in velvet doublet,
Clad in silken hose —
Bells on his droll cap,
Bells on his clothes,
Bells on his shoulders,
Bells round his waist
Tinkled as he shouted:
'Haste, brother, haste;
Youth's a thing that never will be missed
Till it's gone, gone for ever, like the dew from the rose!'
Sparkled all the waters,
Sparkled everything —
Dew on the petal,
Dew on the wing,
Dew on the meadows,
Dew in the air,
Dew on the tall trees,
Dew everywhere,
Dew on the fine web,
Gemming each part;
Dew on the red mouth,
Dew in the heart;
Toil's a thing that never heart will crave
In the sweet, sweet morning and the dew-time rare.
Song and jest I gathered
Strolling up and down,
Talk o' the tavern
And gossip of the town;
Storing in my wallet,
Careless of the throng,
Coin of golden fancy,
Coin of silver song,
Gems of jovial friendship,
Keepsakes manifold,
Pearls that never gem-smith
Set in filmy gold.
Wealth's a witch that loses half her lure,
When the blood runs red, and the pulse beats strong.
As I went a-walking
Through the moonlit land,
Up came Prudence
And took me by the hand;
Solemn was her aspect,
Sober her clothes,
Cruel her questions,
Hinting chilly woes:

[...] Read more

poem by Roderic Quinn
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The Odyssey: Book 4

They reached the low lying city of Lacedaemon them where they
drove straight to the of abode Menelaus [and found him in his own
house, feasting with his many clansmen in honour of the wedding of his
son, and also of his daughter, whom he was marrying to the son of that
valiant warrior Achilles. He had given his consent and promised her to
him while he was still at Troy, and now the gods were bringing the
marriage about; so he was sending her with chariots and horses to
the city of the Myrmidons over whom Achilles' son was reigning. For
his only son he had found a bride from Sparta, daughter of Alector.
This son, Megapenthes, was born to him of a bondwoman, for heaven
vouchsafed Helen no more children after she had borne Hermione, who
was fair as golden Venus herself.
So the neighbours and kinsmen of Menelaus were feasting and making
merry in his house. There was a bard also to sing to them and play his
lyre, while two tumblers went about performing in the midst of them
when the man struck up with his tune.]
Telemachus and the son of Nestor stayed their horses at the gate,
whereon Eteoneus servant to Menelaus came out, and as soon as he saw
them ran hurrying back into the house to tell his Master. He went
close up to him and said, "Menelaus, there are some strangers come
here, two men, who look like sons of Jove. What are we to do? Shall we
take their horses out, or tell them to find friends elsewhere as
they best can?"
Menelaus was very angry and said, "Eteoneus, son of Boethous, you
never used to be a fool, but now you talk like a simpleton. Take their
horses out, of course, and show the strangers in that they may have
supper; you and I have stayed often enough at other people's houses
before we got back here, where heaven grant that we may rest in
peace henceforward."
So Eteoneus bustled back and bade other servants come with him. They
took their sweating hands from under the yoke, made them fast to the
mangers, and gave them a feed of oats and barley mixed. Then they
leaned the chariot against the end wall of the courtyard, and led
the way into the house. Telemachus and Pisistratus were astonished
when they saw it, for its splendour was as that of the sun and moon;
then, when they had admired everything to their heart's content,
they went into the bath room and washed themselves.
When the servants had washed them and anointed them with oil, they
brought them woollen cloaks and shirts, and the two took their seats
by the side of Menelaus. A maidservant brought them water in a
beautiful golden ewer, and poured it into a silver basin for them to
wash their hands; and she drew a clean table beside them. An upper
servant brought them bread, and offered them many good things of
what there was in the house, while the carver fetched them plates of
all manner of meats and set cups of gold by their side.
Menelaus then greeted them saying, "Fall to, and welcome; when you
have done supper I shall ask who you are, for the lineage of such
men as you cannot have been lost. You must be descended from a line of
sceptre-bearing kings, for poor people do not have such sons as you
are."

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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Ode to the Coffee

i am black
i am coffee
everybody loves me

dawn, noon, night
hot, cold, warm
blow, sip, drink, slurp,
kiss and be all afresh

i am black
i am your
coffee of the day

one two three
gulp
gulp
gulp

...

i am black
i am coffee
every body loves me

i fill them up like
a ballet dancer
making them feel good
about the day
quickening their steps
sharpening their senses
giving their mind
the acme of my kicks
so that they twirl and swirl
the day like the best angel
full of class, verve,
grace and fervour

i am black
i am coffee
everybody loves me

dawn, noon or night
i am there to brew up your day
hot, cold, or warm -
like the ever changing day
cloudy, raining,
breezy, or sunny

i am the master of diversity
assimilator of tastes

[...] Read more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Early In The Morning

Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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0200 Dementia

Now what did I come upstairs for?

Of course I haven’t forgotten your name,
young lady, it’s just that I can’t remember it

Why am I going upstairs?
I only just got up

No dear, you’re wrong,
I always pay on account

Where’s my bed?
Isn’t this upstairs?

Take the paper back
to the newsagent, someone’s
already done the crossword

Of course I’m undressed,
I just came upstairs

Of course you can sign my name dear,
they know me at the post office

Why is it so dark downstairs,
I’ve only just got up

Why should I give you money for the gas,
Young man? I don’t even know you

I’m sure there are more stairs
than there used to be

Stop being so insulting, young man,
it’s only money

No of course I don’t need help with the stairs,
I know my own house

No dear, you sign for it, I’m sure
your boss will understand

Somebody changed the stairs
when I was out, they
aren’t the same

Why are people so rude about
money these days?

Ask my father to speak

[...] Read more

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Starfish & Coffee

It was 7:45 we were all in line
2 greet the teacher miss cathleen
First was kevin, then came lucy, third in line was me
All of us where ordinary compared to cynthia rose
She always stood at the back of the line
A smile beneath her nose
Her favorite number was 20 and every single day
If u asked her what she had 4 breakfast
This is what shed say
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine
And a side order of ham
If u set your mind free, baby
Maybe youd understand
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Cynthia wore the prettiest dress
With different color socks
Sometimes I wondered if the mates where in her lunchbox
Me and lucy opened it when cynthia wasnt around
Lucy cried, I almost died, u know what we found?
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine
And a side order of ham
If u set your mind free, honey
Maybe youd understand
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Starfish and coffee
Cynthia had a happy face, just like the one shed draw
On every wall in every school
But its all right, its 4 a worthy cause
Go on, cynthia, keep singin
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine
And a side order of ham
If u set your mind free, baby
Maybe youd understand
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
(starfish in your coffee, you will love it, told ya so)
(starfish in your coffee, you will love it, told ya so)

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Bitter Coffee... A Sweet Coffee

The age is running and I am still drinking my bitter coffee,
To when the story of this coffee belongs? !
Coffee and chocolate are so deferent in their tastes
But in several times
It happens that they have the same color.
It seems that the similarity of them is the same of features of the fortune reader.
When she gazes the cup of the coffee
But I am not so familiar with chocolate
Even I am not familiar with the talisman countenances of the hex.
I remember that once I asked him to give me a bitter coffee
Yet he has made a permanent bitter one
Each time he brings me the same coffee in the same cup
A question c0mes to my mind and I ask it to myself:
If we do not like the coffee, why we do drink it?
Do you think it is our destiny as my birth story?
I was born without my desire
Thus with each sip of the coffee
The destiny stops me not to tear the chocolate cover
to sweeten my coffee.

poem by Chnar Namq
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Part 3 of Trout Fishing in America

SEA, SEA RIDER

The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not a

three-legged crow on the dandelion side of the mountain.

He was, of course, a Jew, a retired merchant seaman

who had been torpedoed in the North Atlantic and floated

there day after day until death did not want him. He had a

young wife, a heart attack, a Volkswagen and a home in

Marin County. He liked the works of George Orwell, Richard

Aldington and Edmund Wilson.

He learned about life at sixteen, first from Dostoevsky

and then from the whores of New Orleans.

The bookstore was a parking lot for used graveyards.

Thousands of graveyards were parked in rows like cars.

Most of the kooks were out of print, and no one wanted to

read them any more and the people who had read the books

had died or forgotten about them, but through the organic

process of music the books had become virgins again. They

wore their ancient copyrights like new maidenheads.

I went to the bookstore in the afternoons after I got off

work, during that terrible year of 1959.

He had a kitchen in the back of the store and he brewed

cups of thick Turkish coffee in a copper pan. I drank coffee

and read old books and waited for the year to end. He had a

small room above the kitchen.

It looked down on the bookstore and had Chinese screens

[...] Read more

poem by Richard Brautigan
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