It’s raining, but Matt says, that isn’t rain.
You make tea with it or it gets to you.
It’s an antelope. In other converted basements
the people speak Arawakan – I’m just saying.
Ours belonged to Harris;
we call it Harris’s House.
His spirit wanders like the rest of us.
What we want is to stand in a breath.
Often, this is called the coffee sprout.
Some imply there is a blue rodent
but they are being Kafkaesque,
and are drunk, or else enamored of the inarticulate.
We’ve four soups tonight, one with deer and shot in it.
With so many bowls I miss many people.
I picture them on the tips of a tree.
When the seasons change they bring specialized knowledge
mysterious to the average person. Bishop and Leo,
Pablo and Tallulah are the names of their powers.
They are secrets of nature. They’re original alchemists.
We’re friends. We have fun.
We pursue dishes and bills in the immediate.
We stay tuned. Then, at 5:45 we’ve an opinion.
I’m Daniel Schorr, we say.