Poetry Selections
Wendell Berry (born 1934)
Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
      
  Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
  vacation with pay. Want more 
  of everything ready-made. Be afraid 
  to know your neighbors and to die.
  
  And you will have a window in your head. 
  Not even your future will be a mystery 
  any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
  and shut away in a little drawer. 
  
  When they want you to buy something 
  they will call you. When they want you 
  to die for profit they will let you know. 
  So, friends, every day do something 
  that won't compute. Love the Lord. 
  Love the world. Work for nothing. 
  Take all that you have and be poor. 
  Love someone who does not deserve it. 
  
  Denounce the government and embrace 
  the flag. Hope to live in that free 
  republic for which it stands. 
  Give your approval to all you cannot
  understand. Praise ignorance, for what man 
  has not encountered he has not destroyed. 
  
  Ask the questions that have no answers. 
  Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias. 
  Say that your main crop is the forest 
  that you did not plant, 
  that you will not live to harvest. 
  
  Say that the leaves are harvested 
  when they have rotted into the mold.
  Call that profit. Prophesy such returns. 
  Put your faith in the two inches of humus 
  that will build under the trees 
  every thousand years. 
  
  Listen to carrion — put your ear 
  close, and hear the faint chattering 
  of the songs that are to come. 
  Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
  Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful 
  though you have considered all the facts. 
  So long as women do not go cheap 
  for power, please women more than men. 
  
  Ask yourself: Will this satisfy 
  a woman satisfied to bear a child? 
  Will this disturb the sleep 
  of a woman near to giving birth? 
  
  Go with your love to the fields. 
  Lie down in the shade. Rest your head 
  in her lap. Swear allegiance 
  to what is nighest your thoughts. 
  
  As soon as the generals and the politicos 
  can predict the motions of your mind, 
  lose it. Leave it as a sign 
  to mark the false trail, the way 
  you didn't go. 
  
  Be like the fox 
  who makes more tracks than necessary, 
  some in the wrong direction. 
  Practice resurrection. 
Poet, essayist, farmer, and novelist Wendell Berry was born on August 5, 1934, in Newcastle, Kentucky. He attended the University of Kentucky at Lexington where he received a B.A. in English in 1956 and an M.A. in 1957. Berry is the author of more than thirty books of poetry, essays, and novels. He has taught at New York University and at the University of Kentucky. Among his honors and awards are fellowships from the Guggenheim and Rockefeller Foundations, a Lannan Foundation Award, and a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. He married Tanya Amyx in 1957; they have two children. Wendell Berry lives on a farm in Port Royal, Kentucky. From http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/675.

