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Page history last edited by PBworks 13 years, 8 months ago




Green tea has turned brown

in the stolen cup-

a cup crafted in Japanese mountains

where the children

of the children of the masters

learned how to mold clay and ash,

how to glaze and fire.


It is no one's fault--

tea once green

left in the open air

turns brown,

tastes sour.


That is the way of the Universe--

entropy battles chaos--

movement toward sameness,


until BLAM!

A piece breaks off.


My neighbor fell off his roof

and died.

His Hummer rusts in the driveway.

Underground, the worms eat

his body.

He moves towards the Earth,

becomes the dirt--



I refused to clean the kitchen


I've had enough

of this woman's work.

The burners are rusty

and the dirty counters

are collecting dog hair.



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