the professor, the poet

this past semester, i was lucky enough to be a member of a small class led by an exceptional teacher. he is a very eccentric, very kind man-- a poet, in fact, who has lived all around the world in the past 60 years. he speaks of california and new york, has lived in london and has loved in berlin. he was the most intimate professor i have ever had and he loved his students dearly.

during the course of the semester, we were made to turn in 5-page papers about the poets we were studying every week on mondays--a tedious, but beneficial task. at the end of the semester, he asked us to turn in a clean copy of everything we've written for his class and he bound the papers together for each student, hoping to delight us at the sight of our published work. at the end of our unique publications, he kindly inserted a poem of his own. so here is a poem of his:

i stood
in you
Lit a cigarette
if only
to avoid
a watery death
I stood
in you
purple avenue
The waters
continued
to rise

- michael march