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Imperial Coffees - A poem by Blue John Benjamin

Raisin-scented; chocolate-coated; flecked

with sylphic wing-fragmentations; fractious

and fretful in the grinder: Blue Mountain.

Subtly fruited with the day’s optimism;

metallic in the turning of my hand;

burnished in the orchard’s perfume: Doi Chaang.

Archipelagic; intoxicating;

beans smelling like antique wood are crystal-

sharp: Galapagos Cristobal Island.

Dark, it brings to mind bookshops, a novel

not yet born, Parisian cafés, and

the word ‛pamplemousse’: Kenyan Lion King.

Cloud-moistened meticulousness; the long

sloping, pregnant with magma; cinder tapped

out: Hawaiian Kona Extra Fancy.

Cherries and heady gunpowder of the

mountains almost reached by questing, flinching

fingertips: Yemen Mocha Ismaeli.

Blue-John Benjamin is a troubadour and bard residing in the mysterious seaport of Whitby, whose work has received airplay and acclaim on national radio. “Poems are puzzles,” he says. “I simply shuffle words about a bit until the syllables fall into place.”

Listen to Blue-John’s collaboration with Quidgybopper here: https://soundcloud.com/quidgybopper/quidgybopper-with-blue-john-benjamin-the-underground-resistance. It is taken from the latter’s forthcoming LP release Ghosts of the Seven Subways.

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