SUNDAY/DAY BOOK

A good mug.

sweet the honey

dribbles my chin

light on teeth

when I asked you: where are you going?

what I really meant was: where have you been?

and: do you know light is a record?

now what the sun swallows

I possess a new shadow

the way I slurp down this tea

my throat from a good mug

a good mug of constant pottery

the way hibiscus

stains the white tablecloth

who I you belong to we us never mind