I need a new grind of coffee a thick black brew tasting of electrons and
birds. A coffee so thick it clanks and clatters like tools tossed into the
back of a truck.
A grind so alive it shudders with stupefaction.
A grind so emphatic it quivers with baptism and blues.
I propose a new grind a brew of propane and propulsion a blend complex
as an insurance claim a commotion a confluence a tumult of flavor swirls
and curls of unbridled aroma a grind like a U-haul practical and temporary
a brew like a junkyard informal as mud yet estimable as lianas and
orchids in Brazilian rain.
A grind pertinent as black pepper in a yellow cupboard uncompromising
as garlic shrill as a phalanx of flutes transcendent as a photograph of
heaven candid as a cauliflower exotic as Pittsburgh.
A grind fresh and quick as a border collie primordial as a crustacean
intractable as asphalt smooth as Burlington rails eventual as rust
implacable as death balletic as life and palpable as both.
Something philosophical. Something zingy and metaphysical.
Something like Spinoza spinning a web of lightning in the highlands of
Not a coffee so much as a way of life, a song and a concertina on a
Parisian street a volcano erupting on a south Pacific island Jimi Hendrix
setting a guitar on fire a dimension a remedy a boiler-room an indefinite
article a flock of cranes a riot at the zoo.
A fulcrum. A Belgium. A basso profundo. An ineffable brew.
-- John Olson