I Take Pity on the Scholar who Pities the Poet: A WoManifesto
I will not retreat for regrets foreign
to myself…Everything will be equal.
A new language no doubt partly
based on the old one, will be unveiled.
Prepared in advance and theorized
documented sequenced and organized,
a Version of a history will come forth
When Justice has its Day in Court,
against Egregious Arrogance built of
unfounded Vanity dressed in Poor Threads.
A matter is raised and then another,
("someone at work's complicating our hoax")
Discard Civility it is War War
waged against an Ethnic Studies Prof.
Goodbye Privacy and Happy Pursuits.
(like teaching Youths to Write to Write!)
We know the sound of American English
And its Past. Sirs, the Ideas we Inhabit
Are dangerous to Power-Addled
Authority without a Purpose.
We’ve been defrauded and defamed time
and again, due to our Penchant to test
an Idea and again and again
see its Origin in Uncivil Persons
with Obvious influence on Properties
of Economy who mandate against
academic freedom and expression.
To the Students to them by a Teacher
in Chains such a minor contributor
such as Edith yes her. She’s moving On
No retreat for a Poet is Possible
You've seen but the Prologue of my Idea:
to be Free of your Oppressive Suckling
mad Worm of False Promise which
grants Honor and Fresh Prey for piteous Dicks
of Sexual Predation time and again.--
counterproductive for Edith, for women
who came to her with Similar Woes
who she was by Duty bound by State Laws
to protect and help. The Truth will be Known
known best in my Verse. Re-Verse
ourselves, Aussi toude les mondes.
We are on Common Ground on this Dance Floor
for the first time Together. Shall we waltz
from the Top? Come take my hand and I yours.
I didn't exist until you woke me.
This Poet you forced from her sweet slumber
Its Voice of Resistance Assumes a Form—
A Preview of History—Sí Se Pudó
c'est un fait accompli. Justice Dancehall
let us begin preparations for the Waltz.
Se empieza El Valso, Speak English
Ya Estufas! A Mint Spanglish straight from El
Pachuco we were born to our Mothers.
You are the Border-Crossers. Now, get it
Straight from the Beginning…No, we are not
giving it up to you for no job, Güey
Ése, el Territorio Sonetero
alzamos a los Brazos, Braceros,
When you call us Indians, we turn Our Cheeks
and we invoke the Spirits of our Parents
in Four Directions: from the West Paula,
NorthSouth Ramon, and the East Morris,
Clemens, Comstock, a Poetical Hope….
Rejected Quakers they went to Rhode Island,
then to Ohio to become farmers
and consistent with social justice
as it was they gained a conscience to boast
of resistance to harsh authority.
~~A WoManifesto by Sappho
Grandniece of Becca Comstock, sister of
Edith, mother of our father John
and our wise mother, La Serena Mayor.