Futurama

As the car
in front of us
stopped,
the lanky German
driving our car
indicated
that he was going
to look away
from the road
and slam
on the accelerator.

And he did.

This is how
the future
creeps into
the present.



Taken from the NPR article, By The Time Your Car Goes Driverless, You Won't Know The Difference, 4th March 2014. Submitted by Howie Good.

Prompt: First Lines with Emily

Vincent Van Gogh

A word is dead

when it is said,

some say,

I say it just

begins to live

that day.

Emily Dickinson

This month's prompt began in reading an article, "Where Shall I Begin?," by Jessica Greenbaum about being inspired by first lines.

"Like poetry itself, a secret channel exists between the first line and the mind. What forces are at play may never show themselves fully, and some resounding openings attach to memory by more mysterious motives. Ever since Howard Moss handed my undergraduate class a copy of Randall Jarrell�s �The Woman at the Washington Zoo� in 1979, the poem�s first line has captained the troops of first lines, reminding me that observation, cadence, rhyme, and lyricism all prime the poem. �The saris go by me from the embassies,� begins the speaker, �Cloth from the moon. Cloth from another planet.� Where are we? What�s happening?

Bread crumbs. Eat, birds. Help me start."

Back in 1999, I wrote a rather crude program that would generate a random line for a poem and used it as a prompt. My first line generator is still online and I did a second generation line generator
because it was popular. Now it seems rather crude and limited (though fun).

But there are plenty of lists of poetry first lines in anthologies and online.

For this month's prompt, I have chosen the first lines of Emily Dickinson as our starting place. That's a lot of first lines to choose from!

I tried it myself. I was struck by her first line "How dare the robins sing."  I think it was the coming spring, lack of robins in my backyard and the audacity I heard in that line that made me choose it.

I wrote my poem WITHOUT looking at the rest of Emily's poem. I suggest you do the same so as not to be influenced by her. When you finish the first draft, take a look at her poem. It might suggest some revision to your own poem. (In my case, I was pleasantly surprised that Emily and I were walking down the same spring path.)

Go to the index of Emily Dickinson's first lines and pick a line or two to start. The only requirements of this prompt are that you use that line as your first line (or start for a first line - you can lengthen it), and that when you title your poem, include the number assigned to Emily's poem (She didn't use titles.) so that others can see your inspiration.

My poem would begin:
AUDACITY   XCIV (or 94)
How dare the robins sing...

Submissions are open until March 31, 2014

vacation

[across]
there is a car
and in that car there is
[down]
a person and a person and a person
and

far in the distance

the
[answers]
timeshare



From the New York Times crossword puzzle, 27 January 2014. Submitted by Peter Valentine.

Two Sylvias Press Chapbook Prize Open

Manuscripts being accepted for the first Two Sylvias Press Chapbook Prize.

The winner has his or her chapbook published as both print and eBook and receives twenty copies of the print version, a $250 prize and - rather wonderfully - an amethyst depression-glass trophy cup (circa 1930's).

Electronic submissions only of 17-24 pages of poetry.

The judge is Aimee Nezhukumatathil.

Full details athttp://twosylviaspress.com/chapbook-prize.html

Why We Can't See What's Right in Front of Us

People tend to fixate on the common
use of an object. For example, the people on the Titanic

overlooked the possibility that the iceberg
could have been their lifeboat.

Newspapers from the time estimated the size of the iceberg
to be between 50-100 feet high and 200-400 feet long.

The Titanic was navigable for awhile
and could have pulled aside the iceberg.

Many people could have climbed aboard it to find
flat places to stay out of the water

for the four hours before help arrived.
Fixated on the fact that icebergs sink ships,

people overlooked the size and shape of the iceberg
(plus the fact that it would not sink).



From Why We Can't See What's Right in Front of Us, Tony McCaffrey, Harvard Business Review, 10 May 2012. Submitted by Emma Rae Lierley.

From Bird Murder by Stefanie Lash

Tusk

Tusk was settled by rogue miners.
They went too far up-creek, there was no gold, they were lost.
They found instead the coloured stones.

The women are most industrious in tusk
and the children hop from house to house.
Perhaps because of the minerality of the River tusk

children�s hair will colour as they age.
Purple is the predominant hue; some boys turn green.
The huge prismatic

THIS IS NOT A LOVE THING - The Harlot�s Progress 2014

1. Arrival in London

Boy have you been a lucky girl
new in town and everybody�s
darling: love, desire and a tender
touch always has the boys high
for candy kisses, little miss.

Beware the late night
luxury love, enjoy the
good times - for a day.


2. Quarrel with her protector

Introducing a girl in a million.
A young mistress, tamed and trained
with a luxury new apartment
and a wardrobe full of fun and games.

She�s fresh and lovely, a cherry ripe
English rose. Fresh and green
she must be seen.


3. Apprehended by a Magistrate

Come on gentlemen
report now!
She�s a genuine siren
talented and in control.

Urgent, be warned � your afternoon
fun just got sensored:
it�s playtime with visiting
magistrates now!!


4. Scene in Bridewell

So, a total transformation for
the country girl � complete captivation
caged amd reduced to tears. A taste of
no mercy, a broken sentence.

Bow and show repentance.


5. She expires while doctors quarrel

Great, she�s back!
In town, in pain. Feel
the sensation � it�s agony
she has friends: caring,
friendly and understanding
a lifetime too late. Ouch!


6. The funeral

Demonstrate respect for the
pleasure princess. This is not
a love thing, she�s heaven bound �
it�s judgement day for all.

Relax Venus
and enjoy the rest.



Taken from a series of 'tart cards' found in London phone boxes. The poem is a take on The Harlot's Progress by William Hogarth, using his original titles and featuring the found text to tell the story of each print. Submitted by Victoria Bean.