This blog is devoted to a select group of poets. We're starting with poets from the Ann Arbor area, but, hey, if you're from Detroit, Grand Rapids, Saginaw or the Upper Peninsula, then that is okay, too.
Our goal is to provide you with a prompt every day from which you are to garner inspiration and submit a poem. How to submit will be very easy. Just put your poem or short story in the comments section and hit post. You may not immediately see your post, but it is there under the "Comments" section. You may need to click on "Comments" to see your poem. It is there on another page.
You may need to have a Gmail account to post in the comments section. Most of you do have Gmail, but for those of you that don't it's extremely worthwhile to open up one now! That way you've got a chance to get your work out there in the world.
Today's poem or short story prompt is the word "fear".
No Fear
ReplyDeleteI think that would be
Taking a day long deep breath
Body unclenched
More liquid
Less defense
Each moring like a present
Waiting to be opened
Sitting down to dinner
Hungry
Excited to tell my day's story
Catherine Powers
June 10, 2013
Copyright 2013
A SHORT AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL BLURB
ReplyDeleteABOUT BRAIN SURGERY
AND NOT BEING ABLE
TO RECOGNIZE YOUR OWN COWS
ABOUT NOT RECOGNIZING YOUR OWN COWS
The report haunted me for days. I pictured the farmer wandering slowly through his herd, stopping every now and then to look at one of his cattle -- at one of his friends -- and wondering what her name was. I wondered if he cried or just felt a far-off sense of regret. I could imagine either as the right response.
Crying because I imagine that a farmer who bothered naming his cattle must feel some kind of connection to them. A far-off sense of regret because I imagine that farmers are ultimately pragmatists and that he would tell himself that he'd lost little by not recognizing them anymore.
I read about him when I was researching right-temporal lobectomies. The function of the right temporal lobe is still, evidently, uncertain. We know a lot about the left side. It has to do with reading and writing and language and a whole lot of other functions. We have tests, we can measure deficits.
But the right side is a little more mysterious. Spatial orientation. Face recognition. In general, from everything I've gathered, it seems to be the side that allows you to see "the forest" and not "the trees".
The farmer suffered damage to his right temporal lobe and could no longer tell his cows apart by looking at them. He couldn't call them by name. Did it matter? Maybe. Maybe not.
But Lisa's surgery was going to be on the right side. The scar tissue that was likely causing her seizures was on the right side. It made everyone much more comfortable about possible long-term damage. Everyone except me.
My LIFE is built around seeing "the forest" not "the trees". And I want HER life to be built around seeing "the forest" not "the trees". Everyone sees "the trees". We can lookup "the trees". The Internet is BUILT on the trees.
It's why we live in the world we live in, with its emphasis on the quantifiable, on the precise, on the exact. It's why creative answers to pressing problems are so hard to find. It's why imagination is so elusive and precious. I'm convinced creativity and imagination "live" on the right side. And she was going under the knife to have part of that removed.
I think of that farmer. Yes, he could raise his cattle and produce his milk and sell it at market and pay his bills and have a very pleasant life without being to tell his cows by name. But I think he lost a lot.
My fears weren't realized. The tissue they removed was damaged, probably dead. She's no less creative than she was before, probably more since she's on less mediation. But it was by far the worst fear I've ever experienced. So far.