Poems from May Thunder
An empty classroom,
The buzz of a fly against the windowpane
Overlooking bright wheat fields and dust and sky,
The scent of musty carpet...
Dust cakes every wrinkle,
Sticks to pitch-spots left
By careless fingers roaming
Over bark and wood.
It blackens nails and toes,
Clinging...
Have you ever been so tired
That your bones all creak
Like a tree's branches in a gale,
Or gate hinges in the summertime?
Have you ever...
oh, the wild winds wail
the moon howls and the air stills
what does a father do
when his youngest asks for a flower?
the father comes...
A place of freedom,
So they say.
A place of free speech, of free education,
But you have to sensor your words in public and pay for college...