Tea is better caffeine for you than coffee,
ennobled by the language of Confucian leaf.
Like a wet thumb looking for proper tack,
my mousewheel chirps - a cricket
relentlessly counting Farhenheit on the hearth.
Blood vessels constrict through a chemical sieve,
splintered by the thicket of keels.
My cup is cold as eelskin, too particulate to divine.
I let pass my lips the lees of a Chinese river.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Poem for my research project