Daybreak in Alabama

by Langston Hughes, from The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes

When I get to be a composer
I'm gonna write me some music about
Daybreak in Alabama
And I'm gonna put the purtiest songs in it
Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist
And falling out of heaven like soft dew.
I'm gonna put some tall tall trees in it
And the scent of pine needles
And the smell of red clay after rain
And long red necks
And poppy colored faces
And big brown arms
And the field daisy eyes
Of black and white black white black people
And I'm gonna put white hands
And black hands and brown and yellow hands
And red clay earth hands in it
Touching everybody with kind fingers
And touching each other natural as dew
In that dawn of music when I
Get to be a composer
And write about daybreak
In Alabama.

[Thanks, Poem-a Day!]

Still Not Found

A Buddhist priest prays for the souls of the victims still not found in the rubble, Yamada, Japan. (New York Times)

See also: To Be Bothered and Perception, Intense City

Giving Meaning to the Improbable

"I think we live in a time of catastrophe. I don’t think that’s something specific, necessarily to how we live today. I think we’ve always had catastrophes in history—modern history and ancient human history. I think what’s different this time is how catastrophe is projected. And by that I mean it’s taken the form of spectacle almost. It’s very much image-based. And that’s very much a reflection of technology and the fact that we spend so much time watching television and our screens, whether it’s computer screens or our TV sets at home or movie theaters…The book is also about giving meaning to the improbable and being prepared for the improbable, whether that improbable is a catastrophic thing like the collapse of the World Trade Center, which was a horrific event, or falling in love."

--Viken Berberian, discussing his novel, Das Kapital, with Michael Silverblatt on KCRW’s Bookworm