Monday, December 11, 2006

Carpe Caffe

At last, a coffee cup worthy of the name.
Matte black for that sober Big Haus sense of the sublime and yet, a glossy white inside so that you can see the heady, opaque seepage which graces your day.

It (or they, being 72 in number) arrived today and there was rejoicing in these environs.

In honor of their presence I dredged up a poem written over twenty years ago.

It is titled....

It crawls from the pot echoing glory,
Victory as black as the night it defeats,
Raising the shades that blinded us. More we
Owe this gallant, this ambrosial treat.

This morning comes on Columbian feet,
Moves us to make us to run in the race.
A sacrifice placed on His mercy seat,
The God of all comfort judges its case.

Does he decry it as Stygian trace,
Or grant you the peace of St. Stephen’s face?


Wolfgang Foxglove said...

And its price? Or is it more of a gratuity?

The Oracle said...

plus shipping if that is needed.

Amanda P. said...

I am opening a bookstore/coffeehouse in the next few months. May I have permission to print and post your poem within its walls?

Mark said...

The fact that the lines were originally created as fulfillment of a Drones Club assignment won't be overlooked in the attributions, I trust.

The Oracle said...

Certainly, Amanda P.
I would be honored.