Do I want my verse to be savage
There’s a place yes for savagery I suppose
And I wouldn’t want ingratiating urbanity
To still the storm and stress and conflict of emotion

And I wish to free it from the Cartesian ghost
And I would never want the poem of the mind
And while I imagine it might affect a reader
I can’t abide the straining for effect

Least of all the catalog of sentimental violence
And images owing all to the latest CG
Or the blasts of gladiatorial virtuosity
The sword as pen the gun as counterpoint

Every man his own Ares
Open carry from the airport to the nursery school
Each justifies the right of naked coercion
And threat parades in suburbs all unclothed

Civilization has contracted a bad odor
From thought-control and the rage of empire
But a book of verse is underneath the bough
A loaf of bread a jug of wine and thou