Physics — for the Practical Man (or, A Mile-a-Minute)
May 5 2009


Speed
equals distance over time.
Distance
equals speed times time.

Time
is pointless to calculate,
beating-on under everything
relentless
— a deep full-bodied rumbling,
far too low to hear.

Velocity
is speed plus direction.
But does it matter
on a spherical planet
when you can head-off at any angle
and eventually come right back?
Here, where you began.

Distance
is directly proportional
to indifference.
The slaughter of innocents
on the far side of the globe
is a sad fact,
but hard to feel
— abstract numbers;
still photos, in black and white.
And after it’s happened
enough,
even simple geography gets confusing.
While it’s hard to detach yourself
from the whimpering dog
licking itself, hit,
limping-off to the side of the road.

But you drove past, nevertheless
— at 60 mph
watching through glass.
Which you would come to regret
60 miles on;
exactly 1 hour later.



I think I may come to love this poem. (Too early to tell, of course.) Yet it came so easily, it almost wrote itself. Actually, this isn't that unusual: most of the time I find writing easy, a pure pleasure; and most of them come embarrassingly quickly. (I say "embarrassingly" because if you haven't sweated bullets over it, it's hard to think of something as worthy of being called "art". But the truth is, the final editing, as well as these blurbs, probably take more time than that critical first draft.) I've often called this feeling "channeling". I know this has a mystical -- almost supernatural -- sound to it: which is not me in the least! But that's how it feels. It's not so much a logical process of analysis and crtitical thinking as it is an intuitive one.

Anyway, this poem's starting point was a book review (by Samantha Nutt) of SIX MONTHS IN SUDAN (by James Maskalyk). She finishes the review with this quote from the author: "That which separates action from inaction is the same thing that separates my friends from Sudan. It is not indifference. It is distance. May it fall away." I thought how perfectly indifference and distance go together: both in terms of the sound of the words, and in term of our identification with the suffering of other human beings. And once I started playing around with "distance", it was only a matter of time (no pun intended!) until I eventually stumbled upon those old familiar equations from high school physics.

I guess the reference to "still photos, in black and white" betrays my preference for good old-fashioned newspapers; since I get my news that way (or radio), instead of television or the internet. And also my age, perhaps; since papers are no longer just black and white! The good old Imperial system of measure, though, will never get too old for poetry: try kilometres and seconds instead of miles and minutes, and you'll see it just doesn't work!