Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AN INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF A PROPHET, by THOMAS MCGRATH


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AN INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF A PROPHET, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: And a voice like a voice in dreams cried out in the stone wilderness
Last Line: Born from his dreaming blood was the red flag of the fifth
Subject(s): Morality; Politics & Government; Prophecy & Prophets; Ethics


And a voice like a voice in dreams cried out in the stone wilderness,
Calling out of the whirlwind, sounding its gongs and thunders,
Saying: death to the four kings of indifference!
To all despoilers of sweat and virtue and
Death to the defamers of the sacrament of wheat!
Destroy the temples of these pious sinners!

And the liberals said: Hush, mate, we know it is hard,
And naturally we will help you, but you must be conscious
Of the danger of letting the people know they've been had.
For Christ's sake don't wake up that sleeping monster.

And the voice as a burning dove flew out of a blue Monday
With an iron curse in its throat like the spike of the morning whistle,
Saying: death to the three whores of history,
Church, state, and property, and those privileged coiners
Of the counterfeit currency of life! Level
The stations of compulsion, Time's stony circuits!

And the hirelings said: Now shut your trap, Jack,
You're beginning to sound like a man with his head under water.
Lie back and relax and everything will be jake
Or there'll be hell before breakfast and no snow all winter.

And the voice cried down like a bell from the ruined tower of conscience,
Shaking the chromium flowers in the garden of moral decrees,
Saying: death to the two nuns of coercion
Who steal the candy of childhood! Woe
To that subtle thief of youth, the nine-armed god
Of usury whose hands are in everyone's pockets!

And the doctor said with a slick shine in his eyes
And a skinful of junk: Lie down and count to twenty.
And he turned to the banker and said: Knife and forceps, please.
And they broke into the body without warrant of entry.

But the voice cried like a trumpet from the nave of the slashed throat;
The heart leaped out of the broken trench of his breast and shouted!
Out of the ports of his eyes flew the hawks of the first four seasons:
Born from his dreaming blood was the red flag of the fifth.


Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA
98368-0271, www.cc.press.org




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