Poems

Poem

I’ve got the 
Teach-them-in-the-morning-
Playground-duty-
Teach-them-in-the-afternoon blues.
My head’s like a drum;
My feet, cold and sore.
I’m feeling so glum;

Poem

The light through the blind is a poem,

the way it illuminates air.

And the shadows that fall

on the floor and the wall

are signs that a poem is there.

 

Poem

In the beginning was the word
and the word is ours:

the names of places,
the names of flowers,
the name of names,
words are ours.