Fiction, literature, poems, poetry, poetry readings, science fiction, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Friday Night Poetry Corner #119 (Sci-Fi)

Greetings again everyone!  Welcome, welcome, welcome to another Friday Night Poetry Corner.  We are continuing to honor Black History Month and today will feature an amazing, gifted poet—-Tracy K. Smith.

 

But real quick, I have a gripe and this does not concern Ms. Smith.  The weather here in Washington D.C. has been plagued with confusion.  If weather here was a person, it would have been diagnosed with a multiple personality disorder and prescribed some type of psychotropic drug.  I never felt spring, fall, and then winter in the span of 3 days.  Very odd–too odd.

 

Any note, enough of my soap rant, check out Tracy K. Smith’s poem called “Sci-Fi.”  It is a great ride that will give you a visual of another world, but just as important–it will make you think.

 

That is a good thing..

 

Tracy K. Smith

Poet Details

b. 1972
Picture by Tina Chung

Born in Massachusetts, Tracy K. Smith earned her BA from Harvard University and an MFA in creative writing from Columbia University. From 1997 to 1999 she held a Stegner fellowship at Stanford University. Smith is the author of three books of poetry: The Body’s Question (2003), which won the Cave Canem prize for the best first book by an African-American poet; Duende (2007), winner of the James Laughlin Award and the Essense Literary Award; and Life on Mars (2011), which won the 2012 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. In 2014 she was awarded the Academy of American Poets fellowship. She has also written a memoir, Ordinary Light (2015).

Smith teaches creative writing at Princeton University and lives in Brooklyn

 

 

Sci-Fi

There will be no edges, but curves.
Clean lines pointing only forward.
History, with its hard spine & dog-eared
Corners, will be replaced with nuance,
Just like the dinosaurs gave way
To mounds and mounds of ice.
Women will still be women, but
The distinction will be empty. Sex,
Having outlived every threat, will gratify
Only the mind, which is where it will exist.
For kicks, we’ll dance for ourselves
Before mirrors studded with golden bulbs.
The oldest among us will recognize that glow—
But the word sun will have been re-assigned
To the Standard Uranium-Neutralizing device
Found in households and nursing homes.
And yes, we’ll live to be much older, thanks
To popular consensus. Weightless, unhinged,
Eons from even our own moon, we’ll drift
In the haze of space, which will be, once
And for all, scrutable and safe.

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