I take my news like I take my coffee:
black on a white screen mug, bitter,
streaming, never frothy.
I blow on it, then take full swallow,
for I know fresh brew will be gone tomorrow,
replaced by something scalding,
but necessary to our productivity.
And in the afternoon, I may reread,
news clips from the daily magazine
sipped like cups of tea:
flavors steeped by memory
with time's sweet sugar and consciousness' cream.
A softer take, I then
await the conversations that follow.
©2025 | K. F. Hartless
This poem made deadline for d’Verse Poet’s Pub: Poetics: For the love of the broadsheet. Join us.
Cover Art: Pinterest
Paramore “The News”





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