The poet mumbles, drunk in his glory,
while the flame still burns on the emperor's head.
A young man understands the record-player poet,
but when he tries to tell his world
only his walls will listen.
Everyone else is ignorant
made deaf from the loud hollow sounds
which trumpet from the vehicles
in the victory parade.
And the emperor laughs
as he gnaws on the jaws of the poet and burns
the books dictating new orders.
- J. J.