The Poetry of David Chorlton
Questions for a Workshop on Writers and Freedom
Is freedom possible without a censor
to escape from?
Can free speech exist
in a country united?
What is the mainstream
and can it think for itself?
Is it necessary to make statistics entertaining?
Is objectivity more subversive
than passion?
Is a mistake more harmful than a lie?
Can animals tell a lie?
If bird calls could be translated
would they be considered political?
Is journalism poetry without metaphors?
Does the truth have an imagination?
Is the writer’s duty
to imagine the fit of another man’s skin?
If his own skin does not fit
should he complain?
Does paper feel pain
in the typewriter?
If the pen is mightier than the sword
how mighty is the eraser?
Restoration
Restorers paint the mission church
back onto the desert,
sharpening its corners
where each plane of shade
cuts into sunlight
and deepening the darkness
in the folds worn by saints
whose old sparkle returns,
part Mexican, part Pima, lashed together
with ropes of Spanish zeal.
Only the faces
of the pilgrims remain
as they were, glowing
through a skin of candlelight.
By
David Chorlton