I have been worrying over my lazy, unpolitical, unworldly existence as a poet... occasionally philosophy seems justifiable. But poetry? What do we do for anyone but ourselves? We had dinner with someone who works for the Gates foundation on microloans and savings in Africa who'd just returned from Ethiopia. She may not buy organic vegetables, but her very vocation improves the world. And I... write.
So, here are some wise words from M. Oppen:
"So with artists. How pleasurable
to imagine that, if only they gave
up their art, the children would be
healed, would live."
- from "Some San Francisco Poems"
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