Foucault enters the den

Over ten years of "teaching" creative writing, my primary goal has been to seek opportunities in the students' works. But here Foucault says the same thing with the passion and dimension that it deserves. In my dream world, every writing teacher would accept this as the method by which wonderful writing is cultivated.


"I dream about a kind of criticism that would try not to judge but to bring
an oeuvre, a book, a sentence, an idea to life; it would light fires, watch
the grass grow, listen to the wind, and catch the sea foam in the breeze
and scatter it. It would multiply not judgments but signs of existence; it
would summon them, drag them from their sleep. Perhaps it would invent
them sometimes -- all the better.

"Criticism that hands down sentences sends me to sleep; I'd like a
criticism of scintillating leaps of imagination. It would not be sovereign or
dressed in red. It would bear the lightning of possible storms."

-Michel Foucault, "The Masked Philosopher," interview in *Le Monde,*
1980

What have I been missing?

A confluence of events, a synchronicity of circumstances and here I am. Strange goings-on. Disruptions, unanswered questions, a true tumult. Surely change is afoot, apace, making a mad dash at my head. But even at this point, life still has so much potential that most of it is little trouble unless you are on the table (surgical that is). So I found this headline
Thousands Attempt to Break Snow Angel Record
BISMARCK, N.D. (Feb. 17)

And I was intrigued – there was a previous snow angel record? Under what recording label? But no, they were referring to actual snow angels – something I got a chance to do in the white sands desert, in actual snow which is rare there and may have been the beginning of the very odd things that continue to occur. Here is my favorite part of the article:
“there was Pauline Jaeger - who on her 99th birthday, was making her very first angel.”

Pauline was 99 and had never made a snow angel? How is this possible? What have you never done – the things that are available to you right now – wallpapering or dancing or knitting or ice skating or walking through your house with your eyes closed or truly trusting someone? Pauline was 99. Surely there is time to try the things you never tried, especially the ones you may have never considered before like bowling or bridge or archery. I think I may look into archery for the summer, or fencing, or maybe learning Italian.

Snow angels – sort of sad that Pauline didn’t get to experience all those years in between. What have I been missing?

Why I am Not a Poet

I shall not trespass in the dark
so much. The dark is full
of wonder and landmines,
private gardens, raindrops and Mozart.
The dark holds no names, forgives
transgressions, exalts dreams.
The scratchy dark wool of sleepless
night rubs its beard on my
exposed shoulder.
I shall not trespass in the dark.

Maybe I will appear more
often in the fading
evening light, haunt the corners,
say words, and name names.