FootprintsintheWind.com

Two or three tiny birds
cutting airs blue and thin
this thinking

:- Doug.

Our human ages travel in waves.

:- Doug.

H. G. Wells in The Discovery of the Future points out that the work of science is prediction: meteorology predicts weather; scientists in all fields seek repeatable tests. Science can reliably predict future events. In this sense, Stapledon’s Last and First Men, is showing us a repeating experiment: progress and war, community and calamity.

If that be so, then we ought expect and predict it, and converse then about ways to flow with and across it, perhaps surmount it. This is the human experiment, and experiments are designed to disprove repeatability, to test the edges of repeatability: if we change this then does it repeat, and if not, how not?

If we cannot converse across centuries, how not? That leaves something.

:- Doug.

Our knowledge of the past comes to us written: on paper or papyrus or stone, in geology, in the heart.

:- Doug.

Arguing with Grandchildren

:- Doug.

I am working to become productive in a life sense.

:- Doug.

Make work for the unknowable future moment.

You will know and
you will never know

:- Doug.

Become ancestor

:- Doug.

Imagine ancestors

:- Doug.

You may not bend the curve much
But you can leave gifts of
Small sublime works

:- Doug.

Footprints in the Wind^sm # 2026

The work of this poetry is, by its roots, making, composing, creating, placing together, and so forming, shaping, as the poet shapes words and works them.

We are forming people, working them, molding, shaping. Not as a big potter, but as an flow of water inside, working slowly, kindly, softly, imperceptibly.

imperceptible
the work of ancestors
how could we have a grand design?

Please pass it on.

© c 2021, Learning Works, Incorporated. All rights reserved. Easy reprint permissions: 574/291-0022, or by e-mail to mailto:Footprints AT FootprintsInTheWind.com. Back issues available at http://www.FootprintsintheWind.com

Play of the butterflies.

:- Doug.

A butterfly among the ancients I appear to be.

:- Doug.

We need our as yet unborn ancestors. Spell it any way.

:- Doug.

Avoid saying all
leave room
we imagine too

:- Doug.

I choose to be vexatious, to not let you off your hook, to require you to test your guesses and convictions around our generations.

:- Doug.

It is our work to think us together that we might think the world together.

:- Doug.

We perhaps should be seeking out conflicts among us. These may be our growing places. These are at least the touchy places that call out to be known.

:- Doug.

What tensions might we have with our 11th generation grandchildren? What outright conflicts? Here’s meat for our conversation.

:- Doug.

We cannot march over 300 years to a result—but we can advance.

:- Doug.

How can we help people of 300 years on? What do we imagine they are facing? What like that have we faced?

:- Doug.

The poetry to which I aspire is not a big thing, but imperceptible.

:- Doug.

The purpose of poetry
to say something
bigger than the words

:- Doug.