“Every poet should write their America poem,” I once said at an open mic night at a small cafe run by an acquaintance. I recited my poem inspired by Allen Ginsberg.

Looking back – wherever that draft may be these days – I think I would have written it differently. Writing in a George W. Bush era America vastly differs from writing in a Donald Trump bastardized version of the country.

So take up your pens and legal pads, students. Today we shall write our America poem. Please enjoy.

America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I’m sick of your insane demands.

from Collected Poems 1947-1997

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