Glen Martin Fitch Poems

I went into the staff room 
on my break.
I opened up the 'fridge and 
got inside.
...

The room is crowded,  
somber, stale, dark.
A wake?
No, shiva!  
...

Before my birth
words showered down on me.
Before I spoke
I understood.
...

Down deep,  
down steep, dark tunnels I descend,  
till statue, scroll, or frieze appears. 
I scan the gilded images. 
...

At night I lay me down
to get some sleep.
I toss and stretch and burp.
I must ignore
...

Back home one night
I felt a steady draft.
I found a bundle
on a closet shelf.
...

The ship boards creak. The rigging sings
And down my cheeks stream mist and spray.
My breath grows fast. My knees feel weak.
As fate speeds me away.
...

Ancient Egyptians, plagued by plague,
Still scribbled figures on papyrus.
(Illnesses wear us down and yet
Communication's ever tireless)
...

The sea is deep.
The sea is vast.
The winds, they die.
The winds they blast.
...

The tickle
of each sensuous delight,
the public joke,
the private jest all seem
...