Begin the Begin

So here is the first entry on the Paranoid Militant blog. Although it is probably being broadcast to an audience of none, I’d still like to start off on the right foot, though footing is hard to get in the turbulence of days. Note the recent Honduran coup. Though I haven’t been doing my homework well enough lately to fully understand the situation, the history of U.S. involvement in the region certainly, to say the least, complicates things. Reagan, for instance, used it as a training ground for the anti-democracy Contra army in Nicaragua. Here is something Martin Espada wrote, for those who act as clandestine midwives for the birth of beauty in the occupied zones.

The Republic of Poetry

In the republic of poetry,
a train full of poets
rolls south in the rain
as plum trees rock
and horses kick the air,
and village bands
parade down the aisle
with trumpets, with bowler hats,
followed by the president
of the republic,
shaking every hand.

In the republic of poetry,
monks print verses about the night
on boxes of monastery chocolate,
kitchens in restaurants
use odes for recipes
from eel to artichoke,
and poets eat for free.

In the republic of poetry,
poets read to the baboons
at the zoo, and all the primates,
poets and baboons alike, scream for joy.

In the republic of poetry,
poets rent a helicopter
to bombard the national palace
with poems on bookmarks,
and everyone in the courtyard
rushes to grab a poem
fluttering from the sky,
blinded by weeping.

In the republic of poetry,
the guard at the airport
will not allow you to leave the country
until you declaim a poem for her
and she says Ah! Beautiful.


About armillaria

running on shoestrings
Aside | This entry was posted in Poetry, Politics. Bookmark the permalink.

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