Poem 1, June 1

 

I live secretly in my poems

 

Sometimes,

& today is a time of one of those somes,

I admit visitors.

 

Sometimes, I take no prisoners,

no bums, no chums, no beat of drums,

no For Whom the Wind chimes,

 

no chimes for Hemingway

no rhymes, living secretly in his words:

To serve one master in the night,


Another in the day.