The Hermit’s Confession

No, I really knew
No gossip, he said.
There’s no gossip in the woods,

Only musings and echoes,
Birds, insects, passing traffic,
The indigenes of my head.

I spent half my life
In a chair. I taught. I swam.
I went outdoors now and then.
For the rest, I lay in bed.

I talked to a wordless world.
As to voice, I never wrote
The way I spoke; I only
Ever wrote the way I read.