About Len Tews
Leonard L. Tews was raised on a dairy farm in central Wisconsin and went to school in a one-room schoolhouse. He retired as a professor of biology after thirty-two years at the University of Wisconsin at Oshkosh, and moved to Seattle. He has lived on Capitol Hill for eight years and developed a fondness and compassion for the many characters of his community. His published chapbooks include Family Poems, Dance Steps (a collection of people and icons of Capitol Hill), and The Moon is Not Yet (a collection of nature poems). Buddhism, nature, and family are important influences on his writing.
Nominated by PoetsWest
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Organized in 1998 by J. Glenn Evans, PoetsWest, through its web site www.poetswest.com, provides online information about poets and poetry in the Northwest, including British Columbia, with biographical profiles of poets, calendar of reading events and venues, poetry reviews, and links to other resources and organizations. PoetsWest, with an advisory board of ten members, also coordinates reading venues and special events, and produces a weekly radio program of poetry, stories, music, and interviews on KSER 90.7 FM. As part of its community outreach, PoetsWest provides a monthly email newsletter of events and special announcements to the literary community.
A BUS CALLED EDEN
by Len Tews
I grab a seat on bus number seven beside a woman.
"I've never seen the bus so crowded", I yell.
She smiles not understanding.
I try my Spanish, "Mucho gente." She nods.
A man sells Jesus tickets for Armageddon
and elegant woman sways from a strap
students fill the aisle with chatter from school
a disabled man in a pink dress gets on.
The lift beeps and beeps
as he backs his wheelchair on.
Front seats are cleared
everyone pushes to the rear. The windows steam up.
The driver puts the bus in low gear
and shouts, "I'm not taking on any more passengers!
You don't have to pay, just get off"!
He shuts the door on a man standing in the rain.
"Pobre hombre", I say. She nods again.
without speaking she takes out
a knotted handkerchief
and hands me a piece of Juicy Fruit.
The bus suffers its way up Pine Street
Naked, we two innocents don't have to get out yet
so we grin and chew the gum. Suddenly
we feel so wise riding along in paradise.