tea room poem for j.s.
we, learners, sojourners
of sunsets and dreams,
in a countryside city,
sing, and feel no pity from books,
brains and how the everyday
explains our love of poetry and
laughter from Martha Ellison’s Song.
We, believers, stand strong
in comfy jeans and well-worn sweats,
singing how we belong to diversity,
and dancing to the complexity of being different.
In the clouds, both rainbows and raindrops are born into a hammock of
tattooed colors --
a sun brings us
the comfort of pillows,
a moon reminds us to walk barefoot in wet grass.
From class to class, a human pyramid
of students and teachers share
deep breaths and laughter,
and grow from memories of love and respect.
Everything swirled, whirled and twirled
makes Brown...
and it is the sound of our music,
a first and muhammed ali
cacophony of
us.
Tuesday, April 9, 2002
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