There are
No clocks on the wall,
And no time,
No shadows that move
From dawn to dusk
Across the floor.
There is neither light
Nor dark
Outside the door.
There is no door!
■
Hello Friends,
"End" by Langston Hughes (1902 - 1967) concludes this April's poem-a-day series. One of my favorite things about living in DC so far is that we have a series of restaurant bookstores named after Langston Hughes — Busboys and Poets. (Langston Hughes was a busboy when he was "discovered" as a poet.)
It's been quite a month! You've read poems from the 1600s, 1700s, 1800s, 1900s, and 2000s. You've read poems by Black poets, Latinx poets, API poets, Native poets, mixed race poets, and white poets. You've read poems by women, men, genderqueer poets, gay poets, lesbian poets, and bisexual poets. You've digested pantoum, ode, haiku, spoken word, sonnets, quatrains, quintets, and sestets. Somehow I didn't really send you any tercets this year; I guess you'll just have to come back next year!
A recap of the month in poems can be found here, including sources for each day’s poem — in case you're interested in reading more from a particular poet or two whose words may have stuck with you this month (I hope).
Thank you again for partaking in my own little celebration of National Poetry Month. And if you're ever looking for a recommendation or advice on a poem or poet during some other the month of the year, you know where to find me...
In 811,
Ellen