w i l l i a m s t a f f o r d
Here was a man who was known
as an Oregon poet.
He never wasted words, either.
He wrote a poem
Every day, rain or shine, and so
he had some
rain poems and some shine poems
and if people
came to him saying, sir, give us a book
he would turn
and rummage in desk drawers
along shelves in the kitchen.
there was their book, bright as
but sharp, too, like bottle glass.
it to them carefully, carefully.
And it was
their hint. After that they'd have to
look out for themselves,
and that, I guess, was his Oregon