Diane DiPrima is San Francisco's New Poet Laureate

Hailed as "the original outlaw poet," Diane DiPrima is now the 5th Poet Laureate of San Francisco. DiPrima has over 40 books of poetry and prose to her credit, translated into more than 20 languages.

"As one of the strongest literary voices of her generation, her work continues to inspire, and we are honored to name her the San Francisco Poet Laureate," said Mayor Gavin Newsom. "Her writing reflects the political and social upheavals of the 1960s and 1970s, as well as her personal life, interest in alchemy, and Eastern philosophies. As one of the strongest literary voices of her generation, her work continues to inspire."

REVOLUTIONARY LETTER #1

I have just realized that the stakes are myself
I have no other
ransom money, nothing to break or barter but my life
my spirit measured out, in bits, spread over
the roulette table, I recoup what I can
nothing else to shove under the nose of the maître de jeu
nothing to thrust out the window, no white flag
this flesh all I have to offer, to make the play with
this immediate head, what it comes up with, my move
as we slither over this go board, stepping always
(we hope) between the lines

REVOLUTIONARY LETTER #20

(for Huey Newton)

I will not rest
till men walk free & fearless on the earth
each doing in the manner of his blood
& tribe, peaceful in the free air

till all can seek, unhindered
the shape of their thought
no black cloud fear or guilt
between them & the sun, no babies burning
young men locked away, no paper world
to come between flesh & flesh in human
encounter

till the young women
come into their own, honored & fearless
birthing strong babes
loving & dancing

till we can at last
lose some of our sternness, return
to our own thoughts, till laughter
bounces off our hills & fills
our plains

REVOLUTIONARY LETTER #79

ONE OF THE JOBS OF CRONEDOM
(written on the eve of the first Gulf War)

Some of us have to mourn
while the rest of you
organize.

Some of us have to dance
in the time of grief.

REVOLUTIONARY LETTER #86

SHORT POEMS ON THE AFGHAN WAR

1.
small bones of
mountain children
in the snow

2.
bags of rice burst open
burlap flaps in the wind
even the label 'USA' is fading

3.
We Air-drop Transistor Radios

can you eat them?
will they
keep you warm?

October 5, 2001