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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