2 prose poems by David Shumate
Reading to the Blind Man
We start with the classics. Homer. Shakespeare. Chaucer. But
he becomes bored and wants to read romances. Stories of
people adrift on the tides of their passion. He is afraid he is
missing more than sight. That there are continents of
emotions he has never explored. As I read, his lips move as if
he now can see the words. As if he were one of those lovers
about to collide. As if it were his hands on her breasts. His
body atop hers. He whispers for me to slow down. It has taken
him this long to get here. He would like to linger now for a
while.
A Hundred Years from Now
I'm sorry I won't be around a hundred years from now. I'd like to
see how it all turns out. What language most of you are speaking.
What country is swaggering across the globe. I'm curious to know
if your medicines cure what ails us now. And how intelligent your
children are as they parachute down through the womb. Have
you invented new vegetables? Have you trained spiders to do your
bidding? Have baseball and opera merged into one melodic sport?
A hundred years....My grandfather lived almost that long. The
doctor who came to the farmhouse to deliver him arrived in a
horse-drawn carriage. Do you still have horses? Art by Vanessa Bell (Virginia Woolf's sister)
Recommended listening: Who Did That to You? - John Legend
Girl Talk in a Box
Links of the Day: NASA Releases Space Travel Posters of New Sister Solar System Also, The Improbable, Bold History of Space Concept Art Found by Laura (a collection of found notes over 12 years, and counting)
Photo series: Ice Fishers by Aleksey Kondratyev