A tea party

Mad Hatter: Would you like a little more tea?
Alice: Well, I haven’t had any yet, so I can’t very well take more.
March Hare: Ah, you mean you can’t very well take less.
Mad Hatter: Yes. You can always take more than nothing.

“Say it straight, simple and with a smile.”

— Yogi Tea Wisdom





Daylong

All day spent together
under sheets against pillows
discussing.
Inch by inch
divulging deeper trust.

Made you tea, food;
kissed as the kettle boiled.
Gravitationally drawn
two orbiting stars.
(Need author)
Bodies:
intersecting palm lines
against linen flesh.





I wanted you in the kitchen of my heart;
and there, after many cold lunches,
I found you; and there, like herbs
undressing in soup, I came to love you;
and there, like a delicate tea
of mangoes and marigolds your mouth
opened, and your words, flecked with gold
and the eroticism of your Latin blood,
flowed, like the blood I long for, into me.

And how could I lose you among these cups
and spoons, among these golden candles,
these jars of honey lined along the window?
And what forget-me-nots in winter
tie me to you still? I could die in this bread
I have made without you. For you I would burn
this dry brain for incense; I would
serve you the wine inside the night; I would
drink the sea to give you salt.
-James Tipton, “I Wanted You in the Kitchen of My Heart”


Andrew Wyeth, Christina’s Teapot

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