To be
A little God,
In sun and rain
Beneath the clouds
And walk the longest mile,
And never ask how far.
Pure being
On days and nights like this;
With trees and stars
And footprints in the sky. 

The Workman's Song

Each afternoon they saw,
  Cut boards in even two's
Beside a building condemned
Ten years ago.  Their tattooed arms
Refuse to rest.  I teach to the hum,
The silence of the damp AC.

My students listen, fade away.
Attention span's a fragile thing.
Inside we feel the workmen's sweat.
They breathe these men, we hear
Them one by one.
Outside the nails dig in.

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