brown yellow white red -
from earth's four corners all of
her people have come
Tectonic plates are shifting. Old geographies move slowly into the future and ancient maps become irrelevant. I am looking at tomorrow and it is as easy, as unstoppable as sunrise. Here at my table in the coffee shop, I watch the convening of the General Assembly of the United Nations: a beautiful young Chinese woman converses in Mandarin with an eager, equally young employee; an older Iranian woman serves a vividly tattooed teenage white couple; three white-haired black men in the corner laugh about their golf exploits; and the young native man, his thick black braid reaching his waist, makes notes in the margins of his Physics text book.
here in this artist's
busy palette, a testament
against the bombing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem