A LITANY FOR POETRY 

 

—Whereas the 20^th century might be viewed as the era of the eye, may the ear regain ascendancy in the 21^st; may poets write so well with their ears that readers can hear with their eyes; may poets be oral and readers aural; may poets be exemplary READERS of their work publicly; may the public hold each word in their hands; may poems be bedtime stories—

—May our poetry foster transcendence, immanence, catharsis, community; may poems pleasure the senses and ignite the intellect; may its tapestry mirror the mosaic of people—may we illuminate the lives not on TV; may we illuminates the lies on TV—

—May poets remain open, absorbing, observant; may poets’ visions be the eyes through which others wee; may poets write toward and into a more humane humanity, the poems multivalent and texturized, the voices variable, viable, resonant and clear, their love of language epidemic, their fictions honest; may we define beauty by these words, and words for the beauty that abounds—

—May poetry pleasure; may neither critics nor poets become impacted; may poetry have impact, influence, relevance, meaning; may poets write, may poetry teach; may its forms remain fluid, hand-stitched in a quilt of tradition, some working from patterns, some from scraps; may repetitions in poems become revolutions heightened to chant, rhyme melodic, rhythmic anthems of heart-beat drums; may the volume of poetic voices resound; may other voices speak to me—may other voices speak for me, may I speak speakerly for you in Spoken Word—

—May our poetry belong to America, hip pocket, bus stop, sign posts, sidewalk, poems to balance the lines on-line; may technological innovation allow more time for reality than virtual reality; may people chat together about poetry in real rooms; may the poets of the academy well-heed the poets of the streets; may street poets note the poets of the academy, as in the interface between theory and praxis, sampling each other in a remix; may more writers enter households as more than names; may books be worth their expense, their covers tattered with overuse, resilient—

—May there be time enough in the 21^st century for writing; may there be time to think, savor, contemplate, cogitate amidst the latest, easiest, fastest, most daring, most thrilling, most in—may women poets have the luxury of absolute silence, when needed, so they can hear and writer their inner most thoughts and revision the world; may men poets have the luxury of absolute silence, when needed, so they can hear and write their inner most thoughts and revision the world;

—May poets’ voices be authentic, not lobbying for gun control via chant, but by imaging the pulse-pause of a heartbeat, the ooze or gush of blood from the wound—

—May we poets of the new millennium say what needs to be said in poems that are rhythmical miracles of memorable music.

Carolyn Beard Whitlow