confession:
i've been trying (for days)
to write a poem about my emotions for the occupy movement.
but the truth is that my poetry
can't encompass words like "banks" or "fees"
or "financial institution" or "kickback".
my poetry
holds words like a sleeping infant,
uses adjectives like lanterns on a forest path,
places verbs in careful patterns
to bring you to an emotional point.
at occupy
i cried at others' stories,
cheered for their passion
and their faith in the first amendment.
at occupy i have been forced to confront
some of my own worst flaws,
as well as the fact that my employer is complicit
in what is being protested here.
at occupy i have made friends,
found people whose ideas stretch my own,
met men and women whose very presence
is a risk and an inspiration.

for those who think wars
are only waged with missiles and airplanes,
please consider the following:
more than 900,000 people in the united states of america
are standing, right now, on a street in their city
holding signs and raising hell.
for those who think that revolution
is a term that expired in this country in 1776,
i can only offer the polite rebuttal
that a revolution is whenever the hell 900,000 people
say it will be.
and we say now.