DRIP
Variant Lit Volume 3, Spring 2020
The rituals I keep
in quiet California
are small,
carry on packable:
grinding
measuring
boiling
When I don’t
dictate the day
by virtue of grams
I wobble
off into the morning
my continuity thrown
off
I think of those
railroad kitchens
my same bare feet
married to cold tile
still grinding
measuring
boiling
I think of
Ira
of Mike
of Jia
building their word churches
back in New York
I was watered down
so I left
to spend long nights
roasting out the acrid bite
one day: I hope
silky stories that
go down smooth.