Escape is the Duty of a Prisoner of War

Go over walls of glass, under wire barbed with words.
Fugitive among marching columns of captured thoughts,
go roadside, graveside, camp under brambles, sham death
to confuse pursuit.

Steal disguise from the dryer of a dominant ideology
but wear it lightly. Go further into fire, under fire,
go waterside, underside, by subway, storm sewer, siphon spout.
Spewed up like Jonah from the Shanghai tunnels
you dodge the press gang and join a free press.

Let them close the barn door. You are long gone flip-side, B-side,
underrated unanticipated dark-horse Derby winner
bitless and bridleless, not saddled by slogans. You go
outside.

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside