Poem 1, June 1
I live secretly in my poems
& 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.