Isn't this piece from today's
Writer's AlmanacBeside the Point
The sky has never won a prize.
The clouds have no careers.
The rainbow doesn't say my work,
thank goodness.
The rock in the creek's not so productive.
The mud on the bank's not too pragmatic.
There's nothing useful in the noise
the wind makes in the leaves.
Buck up now, my fellow superfluity,
and let's both be of that worthless ilk,
self-indulgent as shooting stars,
self-absorbed as sunsets.
Who cares if we're inconsequential?
At least we can revel, two good-for-nothings,
in our irrelevance; at least come and make
no difference with me.
—Stephen Cushman
really just a gloss on this Dickinson poem:
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us - don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know!
How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell one's name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
Maybe I have an associative disorder that resolves everything to Dickinson. Well, there are worse universes to be trapped in.