Poem of the Day
1981
By Asiya Wadud
in a world the orange sun resets
in a world the orange sun resets
In the rain, get your hands off my trickling face!
Sometimes, even when it feels necessary, it’s hard to improve
upon, much less “Revolutionize Your Life” — as some
people, somewhat grandiosely, tend to phrase it;
(1) I don’t know about your boss, but my particular employer is certainly exacting. For example: Not too long ago the orders came down from above: no more of this sloppy filing, no more of these simpleminded rectangles and neat but inappropriate manila folders.
The idea of being tried by "A Jury Of One's Peers,"
Which, as we all know, is the pillar & pride of our American
system of jurisprudence, among others.
You, who live in this world, & claim to understand about everything about life—lyricizing in your written words about how
Love Is At The Heart of Things
(With its lovers coming & going)
This is St. Rafael resigning from the service
Of the mad white queen. St. Rafael is no angel.
But Queen makes comparison possible
ou never get to play it, the rackets
Are always missing or else the net’s dissolved
During the winter, and there are mole holes
The energy chest
One keeps dipping in
With the hand of one’s head
Human mothers are right to take such exceptional care of their babies; after all, even from birth, there is no animal which is quite like man. Yes, even as a child, Man differs from the babies of other species.
There will always be a distance
Even when things are pressing
Against one another, so hard