You can write your way into a form
You cannot write other people's politics
You can write to keep yourself warm
You cannot come up with a rhyme for politics

You cannot say you and assume
That you know who you is
You cannot write and presume
That you know who I is

Yes, write aware of political weight
Write knowing that your poem read
Is going to be loaded with freight
Well before that poem is dead

But write now there is a massive snow storm
Politics be damned, stay warm, stay warm.

End Times Signs, I

Commentary by Dirk Stratton

1/3/99, 5:51 p.m.
 
Hocus pocus, Abracadabra, Presto!
In response to a clever manifesto--
 
(haul up your britches and strap down your bonnets!)--
a novelist begins dabbling in sonnets!
 
5:59 p.m.