A blogger's report from the recent "Poetry in Wartime" reading in the New Yorker Nights series:

What is your reaction to how ineffective poetry has been in the prevention of war? I ask:

Katha Pollitt says, "It's not just poetry, it's all art. Let's hope it's not a biological problem."

C.K. Williams says, "Don't think about it too much, or you'll go crazy."

Robert Pinsky, behind the table at the book signing, apologizes for not answering my question earlier, and then says that he would have responded, "With rage and despair."

Head to limp head, the sunk-eyed wounded scanned
Yesterday's Mail; the casualties (typed small)
And (large) Vast Booty from our Latest Haul.
Also, they read of Cheap Homes, not yet planned,
'For,' said the paper, 'when this war is done
The men's first instinct will be making homes.
Meanwhile their foremost need is aerodomes,
It being certain war has but begun.
Peace would do wrong to our undying dead,—
The sons we offered might regret they died
If we got nothing lasting in their stead.
We must be solidly indemnified.
Though all be worthy Victory which all bought,
We rulers sitting in this ancient spot
Would wrong our very selves if we forgot
The greatest glory will be theirs who fought,
Who kept this nation in integrity.'