In fact, the White House would've been better able to keep this quiet had they simply allowed the event to proceed?

How many schemes may die
In one short Afternoon
Entirely unknown
To those they most concern

Poet Sam Hamill, the invitee who solicited peace poems to read at the White House, received thousands of poems in the space of a week. Does this surprise you?

A Man may make a Remark—
In itself— a quiet thing
That may furnish the Fuse unto a Spark
In dormant nature— lain—

We met as Sparks— Diverging Flints
Sent various— scattered ways—
Subsisting on the Light We bore
Before We felt the Dark—
A Flint unto this Day— perhaps—
But for that single Spark.

What would you say to Sam about his effort and Laura's subsequent cancellation of the event?

And this of all my Hopes
This, is the silent end
Bountiful colored, my Morning rose
Early and sere, its end

Never Bud from a Stem
Stepped with so gay a Foot
Never a Worm so confident
Bored at so brave a Root

Mr. Hamill will post all the poems he received on a Web site he created called Poets Against the War. Do you expect any lasting effect of these antiwar poems?

The Poets light but Lamps—
Themselves— go out—
The Wicks they stimulate—
If vital Light

Inhere as do the Suns—

Do you think there will be any negative reaction to this outpouring of antiwar poets?

Witchcraft was hung, in History,
But History and I
Find all the Witchcraft that we need
Around us, every Day—

What would you say to poets should they face McCarthyite repercussions, such as a possible witch hunt that might target them as “anti-American?”

If your Nerve, deny you—
Go above your Nerve—
He can lean against the Grave,
If he fear to swerve—

The White House claims only to have “postponed” the event. Do you think, given the attention it would get, they will honor poets and the American Voice at a future date?

Fame is a fickle food
Upon a shifting plate
Whose table once a
Guest but not
The second time is set.

More to the point, should poets be wary of accepting any future White House invitation?

Knock with tremor—
These are Caesars—
Should they be at Home
Flee as if you trod unthinking
On the Foot of Doom—

You are not known for political poetry, Miss Dickinson. And yet, you seem to feel an affinity for your more politically-minded brethren. Do you consider the silencing of any poet is the silencing of all?

I died for Beauty— but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining room—

He questioned softly “Why I failed”?
“For Beauty”, I replied—
“And I— for Truth— Themself are One—
We Brethren, are”, He said—

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night—
We talked between the Rooms—
Until the Moss had reached our lips—
And covered up— our names—

Let's touch upon the politics. What is Emily Dickinson's opinion of dealing with tyrants and sovereign people of distant lands?

Between My Country— and the Others—
There is a Sea—
But Flowers— negotiate between us—
As Ministry.

It makes no difference abroad—
The Seasons— fit— the same—
The Mornings blossom into Noons—
And split their Pods of Flame—

Most Americans would agree -- we don't see the Iraqi people as our enemy, yet we are told to gear up to kill them en masse, in order to “liberate” them. What madness is this?

They put Us far apart—

They took away our Eyes—
They thwarted Us with Guns—

With Dungeons— They devised—
But through their thickest skill—
Our Souls saw— just as well—

They summoned Us to die—
With sweet alacrity
We stood upon our stapled feet—
Condemned— but just— to see—

Do you think Americans will live to regret playing along with the trumped up rationale for this war with Iraq?

Facts by our side are never sudden
Until they look around
And then they scare us like a spectre
Protruding from the Ground—

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