This poem was recently revised, and due to formatting problems has been re-posted out of chronological order.

When The Revolution Comes

May 19 2004

When the revolution comes

they round up the poets first.

Because there is something suspicious about words,

even to stiff men, in dark glasses

who are immune to irony.

And anyway, not much inclined

to verse.

But they forget that the word never dies,

and that poets are vain

and memorize.

And just how much could a poet hurt

the coup d’etat,

with his harmless armamentarium

of blank verse, and a few blank pages,

of nonsense words, and sentimental phrases

about setting suns

or love undone

or kingdom come,

against well-honed steel

and point-blank guns?