FEBRUARY 2015
February 1
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By Emily Dickinson:
On this woundrous sea - sailing silently - Ho! Pilot! Ho! Knowest thou the shore Where no breakers roar - Where the storm is o'er? In the silent West Many - the sails at rest - Then anchors fast. Thither I pilot thee - Land! Ho! Eternity! Ashore at last! |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Oh this wondrous drink – sipping silently – Joe! Pilot! Joe! Always needing more How it helps me roar – Before the day is o’er! From my silent Rest I rise – and sail on west – My anchor’s up Thither I drink a cup – Life! Ho! New Energy! Alive at last! |
February 2
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By Emily Dickinson: As if I asked a common Alms, And in my wondering hand A Stranger pressed a Kingdom – And I, bewildered, stand – As if I asked the Orient Had it for me a Morn – And it should lift its purple Dikes And shatter Me with Dawn! |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: All I asked for was common Joe, And in my shaking hand A barista passed a Coffee – And I, bewildered, stand – As if disoriented By the enigmatic Morn – And as I lift my purposed Cup It shatters Dawn – I'm Born! |
February 3
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By Emily Dickinson:
This Me – that walks and works – must die, Some fair or stormy Day – Adversity if it may be Or wild prosperity The Rumor's Gate was shut so tight Before my mind was born Not even a Prognostic's push Can make a Dent thereon – |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
This Me – that walks and works – must rise, Each fair or stormy Day – Adversity is what I face Without a stop at some cafe The Morning's Gate is opened wide And how my mind is born With each sip of Percolated fuel That makes a Dent thereon – |
February 4
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By Emily Dickinson:
I've dropped my Brain – My Soul is numb – The Veins that used to run Stop palsied – 'tis Paralysis Done perfecter on stone – Vitality is Carved and cool. My nerve in Marble lies – A Breathing Woman Yesterday – Endowed with Paradise. Not dumb – I had a sort that moved – A Sense that smote and stirred – Instincts for Dance – a caper part – An Aptitude for Bird – Who wrought Carrara in me And chiseled all my tune Were it a Witchcraft – were it Death – I've still a chance to strain To Being, somewhere – Motion – Breath – Though Centuries beyond, And every limit a Decade – I'll shiver, satisfied. |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
I've dropped my Brain – My Soul is numb – The Veins that used to run Stop palsied – 'tis Paralysis Done perfecter on stone – Vitality is Brewed and hot. My nerve in Liquid lies – A Cappuccino This morning – Endowed with Paradise. So numb – that I could barely move – No Sense that smote or stirred – A daily Trance – and then a cup – Then Fitness was Conferred – It wrought Energy in me And chiseled all my tune Were it a Witchcraft – were it Life – A chance to fill my brain It brings me something – Motion – Breath – And Centuries beyond, And every minute a Decade – I shiver. Satisfied. |
February 5
Below: A cup of Lichtenstein.
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By: Emily Dickinson:
When they come back –if Blossoms do – I always feel a doubt If Blossoms can be born again When once the Art is out – When they begin, if Robins may, I always had a fear I did not tell, it was their last Experiment Last Year, When it is May, if May return, Had nobody a pang Lest in a Face so beautiful He might not look again? If I am there – One does not know What Party – One may be Tomorrow, but if I am there I take back all I say – |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
When they come back – as Mornings do – I always feel a doubt Though Mornings can be born again I struggle to get out – When dawn begins, as each Day dawns I always have a fear I do not tell, I can't wait to Experience A Zeal, When it is Day, as Days return, I always have a pang And hope to Face a bountiful Amount of Joe again. When I am there – I need a joe What Vigor – with One taste Tomorrow, too, when I am there "I take it black," I say – |
February 6
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By Emily Dickinson: Which is best? Heaven – Or only Heaven to come With that old Codicil of Doubt? I cannot help esteem The "Bird within the Hand" Superior to the one The "Bush" may yield me Or may not Too late to choose again. |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Which is best? Coffee – Or all the Coffee to come With its new purity of Taste? With or without cream. The “Cup within the Hand” Superior to the one The “Pot” may yield me Or may not Too long to wait again. |
February 7
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By Emily Dickinson:
To this World she returned But with a tinge of that A Compound manner as a Sod Espoused a Violet – That chiefer to the Skies Than to Himself, allied, Dwelt hesitating, half of Dust, And half of Day the Bride. |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: To this World I returned But with a cup of that A Coffee brewed as thick as Mud With an extra Shot – I lifted to the Skies That to Myself, alive, Dwelt contemplating, till the Dusk, And knew I could Survive. |
February 8
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By Emily Dickinson:
A Secret told – Ceases to be a Secret – then – A Secret – kept – That – can appall but One – Better of it – continual be afraid – Than it – And Whom you told it to – beside – |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
A Coffee cold – Ceases to be a Coffee – but – A Coffee – kept – Hot – can appeal to All – Better for it – continual be warming – Than it – For Whom to hold it – to be cooled – |
February 9
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The Soul's Superior instants
Occur to Her – alone – When friend – and Earth's occasion Have infinite withdrawn – Or She – Herself – ascended To too remote a Height For lower Recognition Than Her Omnipotent – This Mortal Abolition Is seldom – but as fair As Apparition – subject To Autocratic Air – Eternity's disclosure To favorites – a few – Of the Colossal substance Of Immortality |
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The Store's inferior Instants
Occur to Each – and all – When brewed – that Brew's occasion Has an infinite pall – But Joe – Itself – can ascend To too remote a Height For lover's Recognition With its Omnipotence – The Instant Aberration Is seldom – but as fair As fresh brewed Coffee – subject To Aromatic Air – A cup of Joe's disclosure To drinkers – agreed – It's a Colossal substance Of Immortality |
February 10
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By Emily Dickinson:
I am alive – I guess – The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory – And at my finger's end – The Carmine – tingles warm – And if I hold a Glass Across my Mouth – it blurs it – Physician's – proof of Breath – I am alive – because I am not in a Room – The Parlor – Commonly – it is – So Visitors may come – And lean – and view it sidewise – And add "How cold – it grew" – And "Was it conscious – when it stepped In Immortality?" I am alive – because I do not own a House – Entitled to myself – precise – And fitting no one else – And marked my Girlhood's name – So Visitors may know Which Door is mine – and not mistake – And try another Key – How good – to be alive! How infinite – to be Alive – two-fold – The Birth I had – And this – besides, in – Thee! |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
I am alive – I guess – The Beverage in my Hand – Is full of Morning Glory – And at my fingers' end – The Coffee – tingles warm – And as I raise my Cup Across my Mouth – It warms it – It gives me – proof of Life – I am alive – because I finally leave my Room – Though barely – Slovenly – with need – For Coffee to consume – And so – I make a purchase – And add "How hot – to brew" – And "An extra shot – so it's steeped In immortality!' I am alive – because I finally left my House Then entitled myself – the price – For Joe and nothing else – And finally reached my work – And thankfully I knew Which Door was mine – and no mistake – To try another Key – How good – to be alive! How infinite – to be Alive – though old – The Birth I had – And thus – aware – with Coffee! |
February 11
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By Emily Dickinson:
Written in 1885 Is it too late to touch you, Dear? We this moment knew – Love Marine and Love Terrene – Love Celestial too – |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Written in 1882 - Version 1 Is it too late to down you, Joe? I this moment need – Love Mochas and Love Lattes – Love Sleeping too – |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Written in 1883 - Version 2 Is it too late to drink you, Coffee? We this moment knew – Love the Bean and Love Caffeine – Love Slumber time too – |
February 12
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Below: Three cups of Rothko
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Some one prepared this mighty joe With which I get my Drive to go Through races of the Days – To make it through my simple Door And all I may encounter – and more |
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By Emily Dickinson: Some one prepared this mighty show To which without a Ticket go The nations and the Days – Displayed before the simplest Door That all may examine them – and more |
At the right: Rothko to go |
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February 13
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By Emily Dickinson
Written in 1865 Finding is the first Act The second, loss, Third, Expedition for The "Golden Fleece" Fourth, no Discovery – Fifth, no Crew – Finally, no Golden Fleece – Jason, sham, too. |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson
Written in 1860 - Version 1 Finding is the first Act the second, purchase, Third, Inhalation of The "Mocha Joe." Fourth, the Discovery – Fifth, the Buzz – Finally, more Mocha Joe – Whiz, bam, boom! |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson
Written in 1862 - Version 2 Finding is the first Act The second, cash, Third, Expedition for The "Morning Jolt" Fourth, the Discovery – Fifth, the Brew – Finally, the Morning Jolt – Yielding, wham, too! |
February 14
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By Emily Dickinson:
The Way I read a Letter's – this – 'Tis first – I lock the Door – And push it with my fingers – next – For transport it be sure – And then I go the furthest off To counteract a knock – Then draw my little Letter forth And slowly pick the lock – Then – glancing narrow, at the Wall – And narrow at the floor For firm Conviction of a Mouse Not exorcised before – Peruse how infinite I am To no one that You – know – And sigh for lack of Heaven – but not The Heaven God bestow – |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
The Way I drink a Coffee’s – this – ’Tis first – I grab the Cup – And lift it with my fingers – next – To transport the hot mud – And then I sip the frothy top To counteract my daze – Then draw the luscious liquid forth – And quickly gulp away – Then – glancing narrow, at the Clock – And narrow at the floor For firm Conviction of a King Not exercised before – Peruse how infinite I am And know who I’ve – become – And slug the cup of Heaven – and know The Heaven I’ve begun – |
February 15
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By Emily Dickinson:
We thirst at first – 'tis Nature's Act – And later – when we die – A little Water supplicate – Of fingers going by – It intimates the finer want – Whose adequate supply Is that Great Water in the West – Termed Immortality – |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
We thirst at first – for Nature’s Blend – And early – as we rise – A little Water supplicate – To brew the noble prize – It intimates a vital want – An adequate supply Of that Great Liquid Energy Termed Immortality – |
February 16
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By Emily Dickinson:
A Thought went up my mind today – That I have had before – But did not finish – some way back – I could not fix the Year – Nor where it went – nor why it came The second time to me – Nor definitely, what it was – Have I the Art to say – But somewhere – in my Soul – I know – I've met the Thing before – It just reminded me – 'twas all – And came my way no more – |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
A Jolt went up my mind today – That I have had before – And as I finished – life came back – I could eclipse the Morn – To work I went – and while I drove A second cup for me – And definitely, what it was – Have I the Art to say – For somewhere – in my Soul – I know – I’ve had the Thing before – It just reminded me – ’tis all – It is my daily cure – |
February 17
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By Emily Dickinson:
The Sun kept setting – setting – still No Hue of Afternoon – Upon the Village I perceived From House to House 'twas Noon – The Dusk kept dropping – dropping – still No Dew upon the Grass – But only on my Forehead stopped – And wandered in my Face – My Feet kept drowsing – drowsing – still My fingers were awake – Yet why so little sound – Myself Unto my Seeming – make? How well I knew the Light before – I could see it now – 'Tis Dying – I am doing – but I'm not afraid to know – |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
The Sun kept rising – rising – still No view of Coffee – Upon the Horizon I perceived From House to Work 'twas Morn – The Dawn kept dripping – dripping – still No Brew upon my Glass – But finally at the Coffee Shop stopped – And wandered in – I raced – My Thirst kept craving – craving – still My mind was not awake – Yet why so long a line – Waiting For them my drink – to make! How well I knew the Light before? I could see it now – 'Tis Living – I am doing – yes – Now that I have my Joe – |
February 18
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By Emily Dickinson: Talk not to me of Summer Trees The foliage of the mind A Tabernacle is for Birds Of no corporeal kind And winds do go that way at noon To their Ethereal Homes Whose Bugles call the least of us To undepicted Realms |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Talk not to me of Decaf please A folly to my mind A Percolator is for Beans Of real corporeal kind That wind me all the way till noon To my Ephemeral Break When New Pots call the best of me To undepicted Realms. |
February 19
Below: Two cups of Pollock
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By Emily Dickinson:
A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork Without a Revery – And so encountering a Fly This January Day Jamaicas of Remembrance stir That send me reeling in – The moderate drinker of Delight Does not deserve the spring – Of juleps, part are the Jug And more are in the joy – Your connoisseur in Liquours Consults the Bumble Bee – |
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Left: Pollock to go |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Commuters cannot meet a Cup Without a Reverie – And so encountering a Joe This early morning Ride Columbians of Remembrance stir That send me reeling in – The somnolent drinker of Delight Who does deserve this mud – Of octane, filled in the mug Energy in the joe – So connoisseurs of Lattes Consume the Java Juice – |
February 20
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By Emily Dickinson:
Forever – is composed of Nows – 'Tis not a different time – Except for Infiniteness – And Latitude of Home – From this – experienced Here – Remove the Dates – to These – Let Months dissolve in further Months – And Years – exhale in Years – Without Debate – or Pause – Or Celebrated Days – No different Our Years would be From Anno Domini's – |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
The Morning – is composed of Joes – 'Twere it not for that time – There'd be Infiniteness – In Latitudes from Home – From cups – experienced Now – Consume the Drink – to Work – Caffeine dissolves into my Blood – And Fears – exhale my Fears – Without Debate – or Pause – Ingurgitate the Brew – So different My Days would be Without my daily Joe – |
February 21
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By Emily Dickinson:
Angels, in the early morning May be seen the dews among, Stooping – plucking – smiling – flying – Do the buds to them belong ? Angels, when the sun is hottest May be seen the sands among, Stooping – plucking – sighing – flying – Parched the flowers they bear along. |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Angels, in the early morning May be sensed the cups among, Dripping – perking – steaming – brewing – Does the joe to them belong ? Angels, when the pot is hottest May be sensed the mugs among, Dripping – perking – steaming – brewing – Boost commuters they bear along. |
February 22
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By Emily Dickinson: Water, is taught by thirst. Land – by the Oceans passed. Transport – by throe – Peace – by its battles told – Love, by Memorial Mold – Birds, by the Snow. |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Coffee, is needed first. Beans – by the Grinder passed. Filtered – by drip – Poured – into waiting cups – Loved, a vital Morning Drug – Life, from the Joe. |
February 23
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By Emily Dickinson:
Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses – Past the headlands – Into deep Eternity – Bred as we, among the mountains, Can the sailor understand The divine intoxication Of the first league out from land? |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Exultation is the going Of a waking soul to joe, From their houses – From their bedrooms – For some life from Head to Toe – Lost as we, among the commuters, Can the tea drinker understand The divine intoxication Of the first cup in our hand? |
February 24
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By Emily Dickinson:
Ah, Necromancy Sweet! Ah, Wizard erudite! Teach me the skill, That I instil the pain Surgeons assuage in vain, Nor Herb of all the plain Can Heal! |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Ah, Macchiato Sweet! Ah Latte black and white! Give me a swill, That I instil such gain Surgeons assuage in vain Nor Herb can quite explain Such Zeal! |
February 25
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By Emily Dickinson: "Faith" is a fine invention For Gentlemen who see! But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency! |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: “Tea” is a fine invention For Gentlemen in need! But Espressos are prudent For some Resurgency! |
February 26
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By Emily Dickinson: Best Witchcraft is Geometry To the magician's mind – His ordinary acts are feats To thinking of mankind. |
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Best Coffee is Columbian In the commuter’s hand – This ordinary act brings feats From good to great to grand! |
February 27
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By Emily Dickinson:
I think that the Root of the Wind is Water – It would not sound so deep Were it a Firmamental Product – Airs no Oceans keep – Mediterranean intonations – To a Current's Ear – There is a maritime conviction In the Atmosphere – |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
I think that the Root of the Day is Coffee – When I seem sound asleep For it’s a Transcendental Product – Grounds to perk or steep – Central American concentrations – To get There from Here – There is a morning time conviction In the Atmosphere – |
February 28
Below: Georgia O'Keeffe's masterpiece "Clouds In My Coffee" (Carly Simon's favorite painting)
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By Emily Dickinson:
Before He comes We weigh the Time, ‘Tis Heavy and ‘tis Light, When He depart, and Emptiness Is the prevailing Freight |
By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Before It comes I weigh the Time ‘Tis Early and ‘tis Dark, When I depart, such Blissfulness Inside my Coffee Cup |
All things Emmett Lee Dickinson (poetry, museum stuff, Washerst facts and figures, etc.) © 2013, 2014, and 2015 by Jim Asher