by Greg Baysans

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Poet X

   




August twenty-second, Portland, Ore., 
Two thousand two. Our President non-elect, 
George Bush, is in town hosting a select, 
Expensive dinner, a fund raiser for 
Gordon Smith, our millionaire Senator, 
And friends. Outside, police pepper the crowd 
With rubber bullets as they chant, too loud, 
"Peaceful Protest." It's peaceful no more. 
Across the river and a mile away -- 
A place the President won't be today --
This Healing Pole is blessed before it leaves 
For Ground Zero. Native America grieves 
A year in which we've lost, are losing, much. 
We stand up to the Healing Pole. We touch.