My poetry is for the people. My poetry

stands in Red Square with one hand

raised in a fist. My poetry tips its top hat

to the millworkers. My poetry pays slave wages.

My poetry is for the people. My poetry

boycotts tomatoes, Nestle, and bottled water.

My poetry spent twenty dollars

on a Che Guevara T-shirt. My poetry

only buys organic weed from

economically disadvantaged

dealers who go to night school.

My poetry is for the people. My poetry

leaves limericks instead of tips,

drops sonnets into the Salvation Army box.

My poetry's hands are covered in ink,

holding paper-white hands above a dirty

crowd. My poetry is for the people.