Two Poems About College

Morning Birdsong

the songs of morning birds

like glitter dust the air

as i have just awoken

not from sleep but

from immersion, deep

within a two-pound paper

freshly printed

across my eyelids,

eyelids frozen not in ice

but in half-sleep—

that place between bed and coffee

where the words

wait sitting to get written

this morning i will

beat the stars to bed, but barely—

they litter still the sky

but the stars, like

tiny fireflies, are

swallowed as if by the morning

songbirds themselves,

one

by

one.

four a.m.

at four

in the morning

I unlocked

the dorm’s

south door.

a coffee-stained coat,

white, quite worn,

I wore.

at semester,

I swore

I wouldn’t do this

anymore.

I’d get back before

my eyes were sore

from reading Machiavelli.

But the core

of college

is cold coffee

until there isn’t

any coffee anymore

and if then

I spend

a dollar more,

what am I paying for?