A journal on the writer's role in society edited by esther altshul helfgott Contributors are invited to address the question: What is the writer's responsibility to self & society? Send well-crafted submissions in poem, essay, memoir, diary or story to: |
Sincerity by The first movement was walking, so people walked. Then came the car, so the population drove. Later, arrived the airplane, and people filled airports and flew. To walk costs almost nothing. Driving is a higher commitment to a budget of gas, insurance, cleaning, and repairs, yet the common man can manage it. Flying is the most expensive of all, only a few own a plane, and it's considered a luxury to just buy a ticket. If you fall while walking, you can expect one person, if any, usually someone who loves you, to help you up off your bleeding knees. If you crash your car you can expect a crowd, bystanders, an ambulance, paramedics and police. But if you crash a plane, thousands will rush in, to help if they can, to know why and soon the world knows and anyone and everyone will wade through blood and jet fuel to help. Workers, proud to be chosen, are assigned to pick each piece up, then catalog it. No expense is spared, when cleaning a plane crash and the world gives freely to it. And if a single man falls while searching the rubble for parts there is always more than one person there to pick him up. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, the way they brush him off, stand him up, and wait a second to make sure he doesn't stumble again. c2001Scott Poole |
Sincerity by The first movement was walking, so people walked. Then came the car, so the population drove. Later, arrived the airplane, and people filled airports and flew. To walk costs almost nothing. Driving is a higher commitment to a budget of gas, insurance, cleaning, and repairs, yet the common man can manage it. Flying is the most expensive of all, only a few own a plane, and it's considered a luxury to just buy a ticket. If you fall while walking, you can expect one person, if any, usually someone who loves you, to help you up off your bleeding knees. If you crash your car you can expect a crowd, bystanders, an ambulance, paramedics and police. But if you crash a plane, thousands will rush in, to help if they can, to know why and soon the world knows and anyone and everyone will wade through blood and jet fuel to help. Workers, proud to be chosen, are assigned to pick each piece up, then catalog it. No expense is spared, when cleaning a plane crash and the world gives freely to it. And if a single man falls while searching the rubble for parts there is always more than one person there to pick him up. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, the way they brush him off, stand him up, and wait a second to make sure he doesn't stumble again. c2001Scott Poole |
A journal on the writer's role in society edited by esther altshul helfgott Contributors are invited to address the question: What is the writer's responsibility to self & society? Send well-crafted submissions in poem, essay, memoir, diary or story to: |
Scott Poole is the Assistant Director of Eastern Washington University Press. His first book of poetry, The Cheap Seats (Lost Horse 1999) was a finalist for Forward Magazine's book of the year awards. He reads his work every Monday at 7:50 a.m. on KPBX, Spokane Public Radio, which can also be heard live at KPBX.com Listen Online. His second book of poetry, Hiding From Salesmen, is forthcoming from Lost Horse Press in 2002. |
