When I Was Your Age
Speculative Friction
By Claire Bateman
“. . . there used to be something between units of information that was not itself information this substance was so exquisite so fine-spun that we were altogether oblivious to its presence . . .”—By Claire Bateman
GREENVILLE South Carolina—(Weekly Hubris)—4/14/2014—
when I was your age
there used to be something between units of information that was not itself information this substance was so exquisite so fine-spun that we were altogether oblivious to its presence it possessed inexplicable powers it could part to let a thought pass through and then close behind it without making the sheerest sound it transported millions of glances and gazes without entanglement there is no doubt that this era which lasted throughout most of history was the most wondrous of times now when we are lonely as we are always lonely it’s because we miss the free space even those of us who were born after it was already gone a few people claim we can bring it back by getting rid of a whole lot of information but of course there’s no place to send the information to others say the space must originally have come from somewhere so all we have to do is go get more of it even if we have to destroy whatever country claims it as their own still others hope that whatever it is that we’re inside of the galaxy the universe reality itself is imperceptibly expanding so that the space will at some point naturally spring up everywhere taking up the slack of course I don’t know if any of this is possible and I don’t know if even once during all those years someone might have noticed it and treated it gently or at least respectfully looking into it instead of only at it or away
Note: An earlier version of this poem appeared in Mudlark No. 44 (2011): http://www.unf.edu/mudlark/mudlark44/bateman_11.html
The photograph used to illustrate this poem derives from http://onelittleamericankiwi.blogspot.com/2011/05/flying-kiwi-solo-expedition-walk-with.html
Claire Bateman
Claire Bateman’s books include Scape (New Issues Poetry & Prose); Locals (Serving House Books), The Bicycle Slow Race (Wesleyan University Press), Friction (Eighth Mountain Poetry Prize), At The Funeral Of The Ether (Ninety-Six Press, Furman University), Clumsy (New Issues Poetry & Prose), Leap (New Issues), and Coronology (Etruscan Press). She has been awarded Individual Artist Fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Tennessee Arts Commission, and the Surdna Foundation, as well as two Pushcart Prizes and the New Millennium Writings 40th Anniversary Poetry Prize. She has taught at Clemson University, the Greenville Fine Arts Center, and various workshops and conferences such as Bread Loaf and Mount Holyoke. She lives in Greenville, South Carolina. (Please see Bateman’s amazon.com Author’s Page for links to all her publications, and go here for further information about the poet and her work.) (Author Head Shot Augment: René Laanen.)
5 Comments
Ted Balk
Claire, this is wonderful! I think that, sometimes, while doing Yoga, I may get a glimpse of the substance of the nothingness between all the overwhelming bunches of information. I try to treat it gently and with respect, and hope that more of it will come out of hiding.
Elizabeth Boleman-Herring
Faced with the new space(s)/depths/universes revealed by quantum physics, only poets are (somewhat) comfortable . . . going where no man has gone before . . . it seems. I feel so disconnected, in general, in terms of what I read, and know, and am learning in science, and how I approach it (or avoid it) in so-called daily life. And. Then. Along. Comes. Claire. With her spelunker’s torch. Thank you, as ever, Dear One, for writing; for being willing to. Go. Out. There. Way. Love, Elizabeth
Claire
Thank you, Ted and Elizabeth!
Anita Sullivan
Claire, after reading your wonderful piece, I couldn’t help but think of the quotation from Cees Nooteboom’s travel essay book ‘Roads to Santiago’:
“If we had less information things would be more complicated in a more essential way.” (And of course, we once did, and they once were) — thanks for reminding us with such a poem!
Claire
Thank you, Anita. What a terrific quotation!