I wrote this poem after watching, again, my favorite documentary of all time: When We Were Kings. This film is about the leadup and spectacle that is known as the “Rumble in the Jungle” in Zaire, the heavyweight boxing title fight between Muhammad Ali and the then-reigning champion, George Foreman. The incomparable Ali — The Greatest — makes his against-the-odds comeback with all the charisma, grit, poetry, creativity and purpose that has endeared billions of humans around the globe. This riveting film is masterful storytelling and filmmaking at its best.
This poem employs one small exemplar of Muhammad Ali’s place in human history: the author of the shortest poem in the English language — “Me. We.” He was a poet in and out of the ring. I count him as one of my favorite public figures of all time. Ali was deeply human, profoundly reverent and irreverent, and he shared awe of himself with wee.
Owed to Muhammad Ali
Me wee
He had me
A heavyweight at the met
It was like
The first time
I saw
Muhammad
A prophet with punch
A transcendent combination
A champion of Olympic portions
Besting feat of Clay
An eye on the prize fighter
As ultimately pro
Knot a willing con script
Agin and agin
Just the same
The champ
Won ring
To rule them
Awe!
A poet in and out
Larger than life
Knowing the master
Of solemnity
And living
In bombasticity
A dance party
Words
Everything
But the kitsch succinct
“Me. We”
Never alone in the ring
Besting every faux
His heart beats
To a different conundrum
His religion
Peace
