I am swollen, leaden, overfed
on that old dream of social expertise,
the humming virtuous leviathan,
that all this training might yet mean
in shimmering potential for elegance and
just-so just-rightness engineering promised
to be worth again my past obsession;
I am in other words in danger nosediving
in wings holed from chatter with
one of the Chilean constitutional
convention on the heartbreak of the careless
plebiscite, the return as ever to patient
organizing, the bloodied but still beating
drum of popular power, of Allende
and Cybersyn,
and I don't want to pull up.