Self-Portrait+Anthology



 I feel I’m the wood logs on the log cabin and the whitefish under the bridge. I feel I’m not the lonely wooden bridge nor the old football player’s helmet. But I’m the silver coin being flipped by the children and the coffin with my great grandfather in it. But I’m not as still as the Statue <span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">of David or the <span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">empty chalk board <span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">but I am the midnight <span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">moon. But I am not <span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">the sun at noon <span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">but I am me. <span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">And I am not you. <span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;"> <span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">By Sax, 3rd grade <span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">from A Poem A Day
 * <span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; text-align: center;">My Litany **