Poets Online Talking About Coffee: Rauan Klassnik

Tea or coffee?

I look in the mirror and think am I enough Justin Bieber? Will tea and/or coffee help firm up my buttocks? (or “Nalgas” as they same in the mother-land. Yes, Mi Mexico!). I mean my body is kind of avant-garde.

I have walked through fields of ribald Taylor Swifts. And I have picked a thousand little twinkling Beyonces. And Kim K. glared at me in terrified sisterhood. But I was tulip-and-pain crazy. The God of the dark percolating mountain crag heads. But who shall say in my nakedness, waltzing, that I am not William Carlos Williams? (depending in the rain, by chickens, etc, etc)??

El Pollo Felix makes a good chicken. I yearn for El Pollo Feliz.

And waterfalls. I yearn for waterfalls. And the husk. Yeah, the husk.

My wife looks at me. My dog looks at me. There is a chance even yet of Pineapple water. (O, how I lust homicidally for the carefree months of Aguas Frescas: Aguas de Jamaica, Horchata, Tamarindo, Blah, Blah, Blah– with a slight trace of a smartass gringo accent.)

And then again, like a death sentence:

Tea or Coffee??

(which reminds me I’m due for a trim). And the devil’s token teeth threatening to repeat off my head. I washed under my arms with Celine. Scrubbed my face and my feet with Kafka’s unfinished novels (o, how, cliché). Agua de Sandia (watermelon water) brings out the deep poetry. Like Dune and its spice worm. The worm is the spice. And the child dices up the rice. Remember when we got married in a tumult of pigeons??

Vegas you are calling me. Vegas ‘n your death chandeliers!

But, okay, enuff playing around:

Here’s something I drew while under the influence of some coffee-


Not bad, right ? Kind of disfigured, edgy, blah, blah. But now here’s something I cooked up while tripping hard on some premium Tea.


Like “chicken salad and chicken shit,” as my dad would say.

And now let me get back to my mob.

They need me. Like a box full of kittens. The hungry and the lingerie. The beady and the weasly. The Rebs and The Rions. The Lauras and the The Seans. The tastemakers. And the tea guzzlers. Guzzle. Guzzle.

Come to the Tea House. We’ll keep the light on for ya!

Submit a comment