Breakfast Poem by nathan martin

spin the daylight dizzy on down and if not
then pour it out.

filling the black bean morning cups
up in the early hours.

the liquid expanse of an eylid glows
in kitchen.

a slight slender dawn lifts the tile roof
and warmth is reason and time is holy.

better not rush there is plenty of that for later,
time that is.

it is early and the clock has not unwound its figure.
however the birds in the trees are hungover from to many figs.

listen to them howl and moan poor drunk b@#$%s.