Archive for coffee

gravity ceases

Posted in New Poems, poems, poems 2017 with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 25, 2017 by GJK

in truck-stop diner

i hit the pisser

with tremendous speed

i evacuate

two pints of water

so i may proceed

with diligent haste

to fuel my brain

with coffee strong as

a locomotive

that bursts unhindered

off a curving track

into a canyon

where against all odds

gravity ceases

the massive machine

is then borne aloft

by cyclonic wind

that is my bloodstream

fuel and blood meld

awakeness occurs

awakeness endures

metaphor abjures

bladder signals full

with furtive glances

and a hunter’s stride

i evacuate

to the outside world





Posted in New Poems, poems, poems 2012, taoist with tags , , , , , , on August 26, 2014 by GJK

my death is in this cigarette

in this pouch of coins that clatter

on my way to the source

to score another forty grams

of satisfaction that chokes away

my breath as it stokes

the fire within, the conflagration

that holds the jackals at bay.

my death is in the sun

in my reddened skin

in this darkening mole

in this furrowed brow that squints

through the incessant glare

as temples thunder and quiver

and pupils shrink from moons

to flagpoles.

that stained glass there is my ruin

is forever sleep

and this cup here is false awareness

is fake awakeness

but i have made my choices.

i light up in my lot

and reach the bottom of the hill

at the edge of downtown

before the last drag hits my lungs;

each footfall is a day i have lost

to recklessness and joy

timidity and sorrow

lust and debauchery

and ascetic deprivation.

each footfall is

an hour

a minute

a street

a tree

a river

a stone

a person

my death is in these shoes.

my death is in this cigarette

this coffee

this plastic water cup

these exhaust fumes

this asphalt

this carpet

this pillowcase

this television

this phone

this computer.

my death permeates every bone

of my brittle frame.

my death is my only certainty

so i’ll have another smoke

another coffee dose.

the wine i have left behind

because i want to be awake

when i die.

my death is in everything that i touch

so where then is my life?

i would say that now it is with you,

but hell, i have presented you with nothing but

facets of my demise.



haiku, cubed

Posted in haiku, New Poems, poems, poems 2014 with tags , , , , , on August 25, 2014 by GJK

coffee pot gurgle

ceiling fan rattle

television buzz

bitter taste usurps nausea

cool dry air abrades eyeballs

repetition nullifies

potent revelry

unquiet solace

attention withers





Posted in love, New Poems, poems, poems 2014 with tags , , , , , , , on August 25, 2014 by GJK

3:25 a.m.

and i make the coffee

brew up a kick-start

to your day as mine

winds down and begins to bleed

into the next.

my nocturne is your


on days like these

when my mind is in upheaval

and patterns don’t exist.

my ephemeral presence

shimmers and wavers

but always is

in your orbit.

we are twin planets

of the same sun

and that sun

is love.

3:30 a.m.

and i am drawn

to your bed.

inexorably entwined

me with you,

our limbs entangled

our hearts as one.







a brief and minor fantasy

Posted in humor, New Poems, poems 2012 with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 12, 2012 by GJK

just as i struck the match i saw him

headed my way.  here we go, i thought,

today is the day i’m going to have to

tell this prick off.

“what the heck are you doing?” demanded Mr. Red Truck

with exasperation on his breath.

“what does it look like i’m doing?”

“you’re rolling a doobie in the street!”

i couldn’t contain my laughter or my anger

so i just went off on his retired ass—

“what the fuck are you talking about, man?

 did you really just say DOOBIE?  shit man,

 i’m rolling a cigarette!  i thought old people

 like you understood frugality and common sense;

 don’t you remember a time when lots of people

 rolled their own smokes?  what the fuck, man…

 all i’m doin’ is checkin’ the mail and having

 a smoke to chill out, and here you are, in my

 face, gettin’ all weird and shit.  and what

 the HECK were you doing earlier today when you

 were creeping your truck past my driveway staring

 at my car?  huh?—”

“well what’re you doing out here now if you saw me

this morning?” he thundered, “don’t you ever sleep?”

“yes i sleep!  what’re you, the sleep police?  where

 do you get off keeping track of—”

“listen buddy, all a did was ask a simple question—”

“and i’m giving you a simple answer.  WHAT I DO IS NONE

 OF YOUR BUSINESS, alright, FRIEND-O?  and another thing—

 you think you see what’s going on over here, but you don’t.

 we are triplets, actually.  i’m Darryl, then there’s my

 brother Larry and my other brother Gary.”  and with that,

i walked away, praying to jesus, joseph, and mary and

also to charles and jack that the old coot got the Bob

Newhart reference.  i doubt it.



*          *          *



in need of respite from ignorance, i went to

my regular haunt, hoping that Laura would be

working instead of She Who Cannot Be Named.

one talk with one tool was enough for one day.

as i parked the car i saw that good fortune

was in store when i saw that familiar dirty-blonde

bob floating between the kitchen and the register.

i breezed in and seated myself, content to wait

until i was noticed.

“coffee today?”

friendly-faced Laura asked as she

crossed the room, but i was in

no condition for more excitement

so i said to her,

“no, how about water, no ice with lemon?”

and she shook her head and grinned,

“alright kiddo, just when i think i’ve got you

figured out you go and do something else.”

i laughed, “well, i am something else… just

a man who knows what he wants, and how to get it!”

she walked away with a spring in her step, knowing

her tip would be more than fair, and i reached in

my bag for a packet of ginseng and my notebooks and

pens and sighed, centering myself.

with a spastic flourish, i began.






i am alone

Posted in New Poems, poems 2012 with tags , , , , , , on February 8, 2012 by GJK


i am alone in the diner

in the back corner as usual

and by alone i mean

there are no other customers

i hear the cook and waitress

gossiping away in the kitchen

as if they are unaware

i can hear them

as if i’m not here

which is fine

because i’m not here

i am nowhere

i am not even me

i am a flesh-pile that breathes



i is devoid of meaning.

but the point is that

the teeming masses

in this tiny hamlet

are all, apparently, at home

or in taverns and bars

watching football.

important football.

the playoffs!


in fact.

and it is good and right

that they are doing

what they are doing

the football on TV

the beer

the booze

the bratwurst

the filial love found between

fellow fans,

though few would admit it’s love,

oh it is good and right

and fine

and what could anyone expect

in January in Wisconsin

except perhaps that it rained today,

curious that, but football

is wonderful

as are predictable people

and mob mentality.


the decaf is disappearing

from the mug

on the table

(the decaf? can you believe it?)

the fingers gently scratch

the chin whiskers

it is quiet,


the voices are gone.

more decaf appears

in the mug

on the table

without please or thank you

it is good

it is quiet

it is calm.







Posted in poems 2010 with tags , , , , , on October 21, 2010 by GJK

coffee-jitter brain-buzz muscle-clench

cigarette-cough knee-bounce



with nothing

to do

i am




with nothing

to do