. >> first, i would like to read a poem by my dear friend and wife, daisy samora, who was to be here today but is in nicaragua, keeping in mind what michael said about jorge and casablanca, i will read it in her language or my spanish first, then in translation. it's a poem directly addressed to poets but certainly to activists as well. (speaking spanish) no man's land. we are a mine field of clarity and whoever crosses the barbed wire comes back to life. but who is interested in crawling through undergrowth? who dares sail a tempest? who wants to come face to face with purity? that's why we're fenced off in this no man's land under permanent cross fire. three bomb holes. flag study. red. she walks into the bright vegetable garden, chopped water to life from brittle landscape, leans her hoe against goat wire, admires shoots balanced on turned earth, looks up, fulfilleds a leaves sigh, clouds, hands on her hips, her jaw falls open and a bomb drops down her throat. white. the horizon, a black line against brilliant white landscape, pale blue sky above it, empty except for heat devil bl