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FEBRUARY 2015

Join us throughout the month for a third cup of coffee poetry by Emmett Lee Dickinson (Emily Dickinson's third cousin, twice removed -- at her request).

Also, check out the "first cup" HERE...and the second cup HERE.
 

Picture

February 1

Picture
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



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
!
Picture


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

Picture
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

Picture
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.
Picture
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



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.
       
Picture


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

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.     
Picture
Picture

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

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 –   

Picture
Picture
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

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

Picture
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

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!
Picture
Picture
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

Picture
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

Below:  Three cups of Rothko
Picture

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


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
Picture

February 13

Picture
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

Picture
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

Picture
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

Picture
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

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 –   
Picture
Picture
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


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
Picture
Picture


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
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 –

Picture
Picture







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

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 –
Picture
Picture
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

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.
Picture
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


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.
Picture

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

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?

Picture
Picture

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

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!
Picture
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




By Emily Dickinson:


"Faith" is a fine invention

For Gentlemen who see!
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency!

Picture



By Emmett Lee Dickinson:


“Tea” is a fine invention

For Gentlemen in need!
But Espressos are prudent
For some Resurgency!


February 26




By Emily Dickinson:


Best Witchcraft is Geometry

To the magician's mind –
His ordinary acts are feats
To thinking of mankind.

Picture



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

Picture
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)
Picture
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
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