Seems obscene, the thought of a poet fighting:
John McCrae, obscenely, in Flanders, writing
caught in ink obscenity's final purpose
    writing in Flanders.

Moderns scoff at poets and when they do they
think of silly newspaper verse and drivel
flowing out of dreams with no mortal purpose
    flowers and ashes

Contemplate the mobs on the sidewalks chanting:
hear their desperation growing in rhythm
Where's their power, but in the rhythm's music
    poetry working

Think you not the poetry isn't with us:
In the cadenced steps and the soldiers marching
there's a focus driving the hard rebellion:
    warrior poet