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.