My correspondent wrote:
'I hope your day is being good to you.'
He is American, of course.
Days are often good to me.
But am I good to days?
Check out the Day-Abuse Website
to read about how horrible people can be
to nice, harmless, passing days
which just want to go by quietly
without too much noise, except
(what can they expect?) around volcanoes
which they learned about at Day School
from the Ancient of Days
who had a Santa beard and very hairy balls
and lived on top of cloudy pillars.
He's dead now.
Killed by Christians,
whom Jews might be justified in calling God-killers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Such a nice poem, Anthony Weir. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks