5-6 My Hands Listen

what you need most,
my crazy little sparrow,

is

to hold still,
quiet,
in the palm,
of my hand,
where I hold you,

not a song,
or a note,
or a tune from,
your feathers shake,

in a song,
and a note,
from a tune,
in your eyes awake,

held, still,
in the quiet,
of the palm,
of my hand,
where I listen,

to you,
my crazy little sparrow,
sing.

5-5 In Which Mr. Snow Becomes My Fan

I am a monkey,
in a cage,
there is poop in my hand.

this is a poem,
which rhymes,
and repeats.

I am a monkey,
in a cage,
there is poop in my hand,
it smells bad.

this is a poem,
which rhymes,
and repeats,
and retreats.

I am a monkey,
in a cage,
there is poop in my hand,
it smells bad,
so I fling it,

this is a poem,
which rhymes,
and repeats,
and retreats,
several times,

I am a monkey,
in a cage,
there is poop in my hand,
it smells bad,
so I fling it,
wing it,
at my number one fan.

this is a poem,
which rhymes,
and repeats,
and retreats,
several times,
because I am.