Poem of the Day
1981
By Asiya Wadud
in a world the orange sun resets
in a world the orange sun resets
veteran postage and were honorable if yes based on where do you wish along dotted cut post office box or print a campaign badge or service medal 5000-C through July i, 1955 ex-service daughter who died in civil service appointment to use in item 4 your telephone not write in this space number during wartime has not remarried Idaho, Montana, Ponce de Leon Avenue inside the fold here heavy lines at perforations the same number on both answer copy to each erase errors you remove that please Spanish Sex of birth tentative Pitzer, La Sierra, Talladega to expedite our space
Perched on this metal tripod
silent as an uninspired sibyl
I watch a living body (male,
white, 56) draped in skyblue
Bananas are an example.
—But who reads that shit? About as true to life as a
velvet grape.
—I think he judges poetry with his dick. And poets, too.
I prop up the dog and wait for him to pee.
Three A.M. A phrase goes floating through my head:
“A still Prussian-blue night with rather weak stars.”
the uncanny ability, a special dance, a mind on safari,
the scent of blossoms, the foraging flight, the uncanny
ability, to cling, to find, to fly into a mind on safari,
Sounds that came into the world in my lifetime
already sound old-fangled: dial-up modems,
the implosion of a television tube
The first time I saw it, I thought what an ugly specimen. It looked like Grandma’s bathing cap, grown green and small after all these years. I sliced it open and tasted the pale flesh. And gradually she offered herself up leaf by leaf. In her depths she held a tiny, faded star, a spark that fell in the meteor shower over Frank’s garden.
It's true. I lied. Isn't that how
we stay alive? Dr. Metz in Old Testament
101 said Moses parted the reeds on a lake,
After you’ve become a human drum
to let high frequency thrumming
create magnetic pictures of your
brain, you examine the evidence,