A selection from Shays’Rebellion
No rebel without a cause, these boys,
slogging through the mire of Massachusetts
muskets slung on shoulders even Chicago
glasses never rosied the whites of their eyes,
no fear born of fear sullied buckskins.
Picture them now, anonymous, anomic,
trekking the old sod west
of Braintree, wet loam and fecula
furling pitcher plants and trinkets
in the summer when cotton was king.