[Lang Elliott]

yes ... let there be light!

p.s. I've been informed that it's a no-no to bring forth an old, closed post, as I have clearly done. My apology to all who have been annoyed! Fiat lux!

[Alder Ellis]

Hi Lang,

welcome, & it’s true, the bringing up of old threads is frowned upon: I was waiting for someone to jump on you for that.

But, for the life of me, I can’t remember why it is frowned upon. I’m getting old & my memory was never that good anyway, but I dimly recall that there was a rather plausible reason once cited for this policy. I can’t come up with it, & am left wondering, why is this a problem? The critical forums (Musing on Mastery, Discerning Eye, Distinguished Guest), as well as General Talk, have deep archives of wonderfully interesting threads dating back to the last millennium or thereabouts. Why are these off-limits for revival? I can’t remember.

And your comments on the midges are a wonderful addition to the thread; I daresay Wilbur himself would relish them. As for “fiats”— see Rhina’s post, #16 in the thread, & Alicia Stallings: “quadrillions and fiats MAKE the poem” (#14). And especially Tim’s post #3, which has stuck in my mind since I first read it (some things I do remember): Wilbur himself was worried that “fiats” was too obscure, and Alan Sullivan (an Eratosphere legend, now deceased) reassured him with “fiat lux!” (& cf. Ralph, #30). The pluralization of “fiat” is like a privileging of particulars: the one-size-fits-all creation of light is broken down into the particular things that are lighted, each one calling forth its own light. If this might get confused with Italian cars, well, it’s a poetical risk worth taking.

Anyway, for my part, I provisionally thank you for reviving this old thread, pending my being reminded of why this is a bad thing to do.

[Maryann Corbett]

I'm going to risk being insubordinate and say: There is no blinking reason why old Mastery or Discerning Eye or other threads on criticism should not be bumped up under current conditions.

The rule about not bumping up old threads pertains to poems on the poetry boards. It exists because poets generally reach a point of closure about a poem before it disappears from the first page and long before it's pruned. When new members looking to rack up fifteen critiques choose to comment on old poems, newer poems get less attention and no one is happy. Thus the rule. It's probably evident that the rule was devised in a time when board activity was much heavier.

Dear moderators, anything that livens up critical discussion is a good thing. It shouldn't be quashed because of overextension of the rules. If the guidelines need clarifying, let's do that.

Thanks, Lang, for prompting this.

[Lang Elliott]

Thank you Alder and Maryann, for your thoughtful comments, and for coming to my rescue, so to speak. Of course, my intent was only to comment on a poem I find extremely interesting and deeply meaningful, not at all to challenge authority (although I've been known to do that).

In any event, if I had been involved in the original thread, I would have shouted loudly against using fiat in that last line. It's really a matter of intended audience. If a poem is written for the literati, then it is okay to fiat them to death. But if it is written for the rest of us, who are smart but not very smart, then it is important to get a reality-check before setting the words in concrete.

[Gregory Dowling]

I think reviving old threads has been frowned upon only when someone has re-opened them merely to add a pointless comment like "I agree" or to react acrimoniously to some commentator who has perhaps long since left the Sphere. That is clearly not the case here.

I have to say I'm a fan of the "fiats". What greatly enhanced my enjoyment of the poem was when someone explained to me the dance-related meaning of the word "caller", which I did not know.

[Roger Slater]

Lang, I don't know what's so terrible about having to look up a word.

The word "fiat" here is particularly right since the Latin translation of God's let-there-bes is "fiat," as in "fiat lux" (let there be light), and many readers, even the ones you call "common," will know that as well.

[Lang Elliott]

Just to make sure I'm not being misunderstood ...

While I am not thrilled with the exact wording of the last line of Mayflies, I am hugely fond of the last stanza and the meaning it conveys. For me, it reflects the sentiment of religious scholar Thomas Berry, who wrote the book "Dream of the Earth." In it, he proposes that we humans have sprung out of the evolutionary process as a vehicle for nature (or creation) to witness and appreciate itself.

While many of us feel estranged or separated from nature, it is important to realize this is an illusion, a cultural misunderstanding of sorts. No matter what we think or do, we are "of nature," made completely of the stuff of nature and hence are fully connected, under all circumstances. Wilbur addresses this beautifully in the last stanza by acknowledging a feeling of separateness and then shedding that feeling in favor of accepting the role of witness, of being the eyes and ears of creation appreciating itself. Or at least that's what I think he's saying.

In my world, this is an important, perhaps even revolutionary, idea that is central to my life's work.

[Lang Elliott]

Roger:

I'll be the first to admit my own lack of education. Nonetheless, I'll hold my ground. I'd rather that the last sentence not require a dictionary check by anyone because that interrupts the flow of the beautiful idea being conveyed. Imagine doing that in a song, where there are no words to see. For me, this poem is a song ... I hear it singing as I read it, and it excites my heart.

[Roger Slater]

But I'm curious, Lang. Now that you know the word and have assimilated it into your vocabulary, does the word now work for you in the poem? I understand that you feel it is unfortunate that your initial engagement with the poem was interrupted by a "dictionary check," but now, with the dictionary check behind you, and leaving aside your concern for other readers who may be called upon to consult the dictionary when they first encounter the poem, do you find that the issue of the word has become moot for you now that the word is familiar?

[Lang Elliott]

Roger:

It does work for me now, though still seems a tad abstruse ... how fair the decrees of the caller are.

I think he's simply saying: How fair are the creatures of God's decree" ... in reference to Day 6 of creation. Or else: "How fair are the objects of creation" or, better yet, "How fair are the creatures of God."

Whatever, the idea being put forward is wonderful, that our task as humans is to joyfully see and experience creation. If we look upon the earth and stars from that reverent and selfless point of view, our separateness dissolves and we literally become the eyes of God.

I am so incredibly moved by this amazing poem.