Poets eat for free in the Republic of Poetry!

Let’s all jump on a train full of poets and head to the republic of poetry together.

the republic of poetry // by martin espada

in the republic of poetry,

a train full of poets

rolls south in the rain

as plum trees rock

and horses kick in the air,

and village bands

parade down the aisle

with trumpets, with bowler hats,

followed by the president

of the republic,

shaking every hand.

in the republic of poetry,

monks print verses about the night

on boxes of monastery chocolate,

kitchens in restaurants

use odes for recipes from eel to artichoke,

and poets eat for free.

in the republic of poetry,

poets read to the baboons

at the zoo, and all the primates,

poets and baboons alike, scream for joy.

in the republic of poetry,

poets rent a helicopter

to bombard the national palace

with poems on bookmarks,

and everyone in the courtyard

rushes to grab a poem

fluttering from the sky,

blinded by weeping.

in the republic of poetry,

the guard at the airport

will not allow you to leave the country

until you declaim a poem for her

and say’s

Ah! Beautiful.

  Martin Espada