Jeff Gangwer

Veteran Poet - 1,365 Points (September 23,1984 / Hood River, Oregon)

Jeff Gangwer Poems

1. In 1984... 3/15/2016
2. ...On Cascade Dairy 3/15/2016
3. My Erector Set And The Electron Guns 3/15/2016
4. ...Too Young To Know 3/15/2016
5. My Inheritance 3/15/2016
6. Sugar And Plastic 3/15/2016
7. Days And Games 3/17/2016
8. I Grew Up Watching Ed O'neill 3/17/2016
9. Thank You, Bixby Snyder 3/17/2016
10. A Stolen Kiss / Buko 3/17/2016
11. Non Sequiturs Exist... 3/17/2016
12. He Travels 3/17/2016
13. The Shoes / Hitting The Pavement 3/17/2016
14. A Mission...A Will...And A Hope 3/17/2016
15. Returns / Departures 3/17/2016
16. Our Past 3/17/2016
17. America 3/17/2016
18. Pequeñas Fiestas 3/17/2016
19. Porn Mags And Tabloid Television 3/17/2016
20. An Ode To Georgie 3/17/2016
21. A Grim Connection 3/17/2016
22. Hip Hop 3/17/2016
23. Tongues At Work / Liquid Swords 3/17/2016
24. ...A Baby Was Birthed 3/17/2016
25. Festivus Celebrations In Room 7 3/17/2016
26. I Love The Seventh Grade 3/17/2016
27. Dylan B***s 3/17/2016
28. ...Like Doctor Evil 3/17/2016
29. Four Corners 3/17/2016
30. Teaching Is A Privilege 3/17/2016
31. The Eye Crud, The Sleepy Dirt 3/18/2016
32. Two Horses / Together In A Harness 3/18/2016
33. Joseph Malins Was Right 1/20/2017
34. Intestinal Worms And Top Ramen Noodles 1/20/2017
35. Like A Broken Rec— 1/20/2017
36. A Tiny Tornado 1/20/2017
37. Dairy Queen It! 1/20/2017
38. Meetings And Minds (And Mine) 1/20/2017
39. Son-Of-A-B*tching B*st*rds 1/20/2017
40. Hot Pocket Holes 1/20/2017
Best Poem of Jeff Gangwer

Workers Of The Earth

I thank the workers of the earth—
those who plant and those who harvest—

The same who cultivate
on readied fields over breaking soil

Drivers at their wheels—
their tractors,
rolling

And through dust,
rising and hanging in the air,
they look downfield...

...by way of progress...

...and train their implements...

...and hold fast to the prospect of feeding all

Read the full of Workers Of The Earth

I Write To You

I write to you from the arch in my back—
From the bend in my frame—
From a painful spot—
From good posture's enemy

I write from the a** in my seat—
From the legs that carry;
From the knees that climb—
From the bottom—up, up, and up

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