@olivertraldi This is just to say
We have opened
the bag
that was from
Aeolus
which we thought
was probably
filled
with treasure
Forgive us
it was winds
so stormy
and so cold
To settle a troublesome discourse, I have provided here the most faithful and poetic possible translation of the beginning of the Odyssey.
We male sex. We
complex. We
fake horse. We
off course. We
sail long. We
hear song. We
pig crew. We
home soon.
I live just across the road from a school, and today I heard the announcement of a lockdown drill. When it was finished, I could hear the children playing in the Spring rain. I thought of my own son, safe by the grace of God, and of history, and of all the children for whom the day came when it was not a drill. And I thought about James Baldwin's words—"The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe"—and I thought about this:
I do *not* want an AI "summary" of an email, or a book, or a life. I do not want an AI summary of a winter sky, or my father's hands, or the hope in my child's eyes. I do not want an AI summary of the human heart, or the first little shiver of lust, or the long good work of love.
Since the highest officials of our 'government' have stated that people with autism will "never write a poem" or live beautiful lives, I'm sharing this poem written by an autistic child.
She used my poetry prompts that show everyone has a voice within. Education matters, and it works if it's done with love and understanding.
“Whatever it takes. Find the animal / you want to be and burst into that.”
— Brett Elizabeth Jenkins
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This poem appeared in Diode Poetry Journal. Shared here with deep gratitude.
I just want to let you all know I'm ok. 🤍 I'm pulling through a hard time & will be back soon to restart the Daily Poetry Thread & my daily sharing of truth & beauty.
The algorithm might have dropped me while I was gone, so can you let me know if you see this? Sending love.