Army of Ink Soul Cup

 

Soul Cup .

I wish upon myself, that one day I’ll be as comfortable in me, as she in her tub.  Pop this in your cup … once the soul has left its pot, its own cup it must fill.  One teaspoon or two?  Entirely up to you.  But do we must, fill our cups, with pinkies pointing up.  And rise we do in fluff and blue, and endless possibility …

Personal footnote:  Just got back from talking at a conference up North in the remote mining town of Newman.  Struck by the extent of individual and community suffering, this ‘Ink’ arrived.

(Reposted from 2011.  Find her in Clunk & Jam book.)