Poem - Tangible Fear

 
Tangible Fear Pomp,parades,charisma.The new arrogance isjust the old arrogancein a fancier package. In the large placesthere are the masses,no longer huddled.Even our poorare no longer destitute.In the expanses,in the National Mallpeople wave flags;it is a curious spectacle. In the larger places,in the marble placesis a new American arrogance. In the smaller places,on the dirty kitchen floorsand the unwashed carpets,in the hidden placesis a tangible fear. Every four yearsthere are promises and lies,but who am Ito be cynical? With a wave of the handGod is invoked,but I tremble.I see a "seig heil." The new huddled massesmove, pulsateand hopeto the new propaganda.I hope too,but what place do I have,what hope is therein the coffeehouses,in the museums.What hope is therefor a conservative poet
in the new Nuremberg?