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To Piercy:

Your ideas are harsh
biting like a cold winter wind
unforgiving as the stern schoolmaster.
Phrases jump and writhe
a rattlesnake caught by the tail.
Men are the enemy,
as beetles are to roses
eating the leaves and buds
leaving nothing but
the remains of a skeleton.

What would happen
if no one were to speak out as you do?
Rhythms bending and flowing
an old willow, worn yet strong
in the winds. Your words
inspire and shock into silence.