By David Martin

When I trusted Noam Chomsky 
I had a cozy home. 
With my academic friends 
I did not feel alone.

I liked his doughty dissidence; 
At least I thought him bold. 
And he helped me see beyond 
The daily lies we’re told.

Then I saw he stayed away 
From major mysteries 
Like a student of the woods 
Who won’t go near the trees.

Now the trees are falling down 
And crushing all we see, 
And all the Chomskyites can do 
Is run away from me.

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