From: sheilah@wam.umd.edu (Sheila Herndon)
Subject: God and airplane poems
Organization: University of Maryland, College Park
Date: Tue, 13 Oct 1992 19:26:29 GMT



	Someone asked for a poem about god and airplanes. This poem does
not match the poem he is asking for. I never rewrote this poem, and it
is mediocre and one of the first poems I started to write, when I started
writing again. The reason I want to repost it, is because I feel like
having a conversation about the thoughts that precipitated this poem.


Hey These Guys Don't Know What Airplanes
(title of an invitation)

i think i could use a new myth
or 2 now
in our chalk smelling vanilla bland concrete shades thinking charcoal burning
								        house
under a flight path

i'll show them i'll call
the tv newspapers forget.
forget that airplanes are today

something to go insane about
something to pattern a morning about.
with the first thoughts of morning
during the rigid airgoing heavy traffic controller noise
		blessed is the heavenly train!
in the first watch of dew
i ocnducted a life under the influence
of severe bless'ed noise
like all good christians should
maker lighter than
			yes even
non rigid flying bird boxes
with golden green and red blue strings
for noise.
I set my wind
to celebrate the rigid sky
myth I have made
and because i've no real reason holidays
i've called you over
to watch.


	I wrote this thinking of models, patterns, celebrations modern and
ancient.
	Does anyone get any gleaning from this poem anything I had in my
mind? I am never sure. I tried to think of rewriting, but it kept making
all the sense i had in my mind. I never know if it makes sense to anyone
else. If it doesn't will someone else take my poem away and write a better
one? It burns up my head.

	Here are the thoughts that begin it:

	Today we are boring. We have sterile holidays for no reason. In times
past people believed in the things they celebrated. They celebrated their
gods, their fears, hope. They had celebrations to change things, to 
understand their gods. (celebrations to make patterns of things to
understand them)
	Their gods maybe were the eruption of a volcano, or an earthquake,
or a thunderstorm. I can believe in thunderstorms. (do you still now call
me an aethist?). 
	Now people lose reasons to celebrate in understanding and reason,
stress goes nowhere. People have no silly variable X that they do not understand
to celebrate for. These are boring people.
	I decide that hope is something that is irrational. It is an under-
standing that in a circumstance - there is no possible way you can determin
every variable, so that there may be some unknown condition that will change
the result. Anytime something is not as I wish, I can pretend that I don't
have all the data, and hope for that result. It is a replacement for god
I suppose. diety is randomness? or deity is lack of knowledge.
	I wondered how passion would erupt if I made a big blank of knowledge
in some peoples minds. They live under a flight path in Austin. One morning
they wake up, and They do not know what airplanes are, or heavier-than-air
flight, flight in any way except for birds. They don't know about the
Bernoulli principle, nothing like that. This is an irrational author's
arbitrary amnesia selection. They wake up, the airplanes start at six a.m.
and they are amazed. loud noise! unexplainable. Rigid looking bodies propelled
through air! This is romance. This is adventure. This is unknown. They 
decide to celebrate with a party outside of flying. They try to make models
of the unexplained event, the closest they can come up with is a disocovery
of lighter than air flight. They choose many-colored streamers to symbolize
the loud noise the planes make. They paint bright metallic birds on the
lighter than air boxes. Blue metallic paint, gold and silver! This is fun.
Some are so amazed that they call the Newspapers and Tv stations to inform
them of the incredible event of creatures in the sky. The Journalists of
course, do not have this amnesia. They consider the forgetful people as
pranksters or crazy.

	Anyway. This isn't true. People arn't realy boring. They are
interesting. There are still a lot of things we don't understand. And
even things we do, are still beautiful. Some people may be invovled
in sterile patterns, but others still find cause for joy.

	People, celebrate.

	(there is more. I can't remember all I think about. Do I ever
say what I mean, in some poem? this is why I think I should avoid poetry
and write stories. I talk too much.)

	(there are assumptions in this writing. First, . Second, well, 
there are a whole bunch of assumptions. This does not mean that you have
the same ones, just because you read writing that is based on them. Look out.)
-- 
I am always wrong. Don't believe me ever.
stark raving sane  sheilah@wam.umd.edu