Daybreaks to those gray
Voices pushing out
The dark’s darker
Voices. And the wayAdoze at times in Kyoto
To the nudgings of a neighbor’s
Television and the set
Picking up the radioMy parents always woke to
Morning passing through
Morning on
The other sideOf the wall
Of the world
So early. All
Of those voicesPushing back
The night as they must
Black into black
The news going onOut
As it ought
And in coming in
By way of those thinPulsed voices saying
On most days Yes it’s all right
Everything held together
Through the nightThe world is just
Where you left it
Out there you must
Go out in it. IncreasinglyThe news
Doesn’t it
Comes like this
BodilessAnd over blue
Curved reaches the voices clearer
Though farther
Linking us toOur leaders and voter
Profiles gain
And loss the roaming walls
Of local storms our falling rainForests the murmur
Of distant hunger
The murder
Of some publicDignitary
One of ours and yet
The name not
Caught.The dead
Pyramid largely
Under us and in their mounting
Numbers would riseAiring complaints
Apologies second
Thoughts saying Still
UncorrectedThe old mistake
But we’re sorry
To wake you we’re
Sorry and you must wake.
This Issue
June 16, 1988