Glen Martin Fitch Poems

'Most poor suckers are starving to death'
Mame Dennis

Perhaps it is too late.
...

I punch in.
Shall I play the pawn or jerk?
At home at night
I'm just too tired to eat.
...

I wish I had 
more heinous sins to hide
for all the grief I suffer 
and for what?
...

I am alive.
And even when alone,
I have the skills and peace
and all the stuff I need to thrive.
...

I left my parents 
chanting few complaints.
Too hard I stomped my footprints 
amid the crowd.
...

Though seldom warm,
more often bracing cold,
I soon adjust.
Uplifted, blissful, freed.
...

My mother taught me
how to clip my nails.
Just one more parent's duty
I suppose.
...

The theatre is empty, dark. 
The stage is bare. 
My heart is all I hear. 
My temples ache.
...

Let's hear it for the spirit.
Now lift your voice in song.
But if your arm's too weak, my friend,
You'd best not sing along.
...

Like bulls and bears
within the market pit
the publishers and critics
seek the prize investment
...