Last night was the 2014 Best American Poetry launch reading, and I surely wish I could have teleported myself to New York to be with you all. I trust you had a great evening. Since this is my last day on the BAP blog, I want to share some random thoughts that I’d hoped would find their way into my posts, but did not:
Did you know:
That Saturday, September 27 is the fourth annual 100 Thousand Poets for Change world-wide poetry day, happening at a location near you? In 600 cities in 100 countries, poets, musicians, mimes, and artists are working together to promote peace, justice, and sustainability. Go here for an event in your area. Attend. You will be happy you did.
Did you know:
That in the future, there will be no colleges, no banks, and no factories? Furthermore, in the future, there will be 3-D printers that can print actual things, like a guitar that you can use and then recycle. Same for clothes. They will fit you perfectly because they will be digitally mastered to fit your body. Then, you can delete them and make new ones the next day. (These are predictions by Jaron Lanier in his book Who Owns the Future?)
Did you know:
That in the future, things will be less linear and more fragmented? Lanier writes: “From here on out the human story will no longer unfold in a sensible way. We are said to be entering into a fate that will resist interpretation. Narrative arcs will no longer apply.” Lanier goes on to say that in the world of software development, there is still a dominant narrative, but the problem is that humans aren’t the heroes. He wants to make sure that humans remain players. Let’s stay in the game, people. Okay?
Did you know:
There is wonderful e-zine called Brain Pickings. Go here, to read a fascinating post on how to survive the information revolution. Writer Maria Popova posits that the hope for the future is in the storytellers, the ones who take information and make wisdom from it. In this age of information overload, we need storytellers to keep finding meaning. Hear that people? We need storytellers. Go!
Did you know:
That eons ago, the mammoths rubbed up against rocks along the coast of Northern California to groom themselves? They rubbed so much that the rocks became shiny. Talk about leaving a legacy.
Did you know:
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. (Robert Frost said this.)
Did you know:
Now that everything is happening in the Cloud, there is a word for the world before the Cloud? The word is: antenimbosia. I want this word.
Did you know:
That not all Muses are female? Mine, for example, is male. I know this goes against centuries of mythology, but hey. Talk to the Muse.
Finally,
If I had to say there was one thread for me this week, it was my awareness of the fragility and preciousness of existence, and the sheer beauty of words as they live in poetry. It all goes very quickly, this thing we call Life. Sometimes, too quickly. Whatever we do while we are here, let’s make it good.
And look at this. At last, I have finally stayed well within my ideal word count for a blog post, coming in at 561 words. I will close with a poem by Maxine Kumin:
Our Ground Time Here Will Be Brief
Blue landing lights make
nail holes in the dark.
A fine snow falls. We sit
on the tarmac taking on
the mail, quick freight,
trays of laboratory mice,
coffee and Danish for
the passengers.
Wherever we’re going
is Monday morning.
Wherever we’re coming from
is Mother’s lap.
On the cloud-pack above, strewn
as loosely as parsnip
or celery seeds, lie
the souls of the unborn:
my children’s children’s
children and their father.
We gather speed for the last run
and lift off into the weather.
--Maxine Kumin*
In memory of DMW
* From Our Ground Time Here Will Be Brief: New and Selected Poems (Penguin Books, 1989)
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