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  Sep 2023 Nat Lipstadt
Dead Rose One
"We are creatures of constant awe, curious at beauty, at leaf and blossom, at grief and pleasure, sun and shadow," U.S. poet laureate Ada Limón writes in her new poem that will fly to Jupiter's moon Europa aboard NASA's Europa Clipper mission.

"And it is not darkness that unites us, not the cold distance of space, but the offering of water, each drop of rain."
The poem, unveiled at an event tonight at the Library of Congress, is going to be engraved in Limón's handwriting and affixed to the spacecraft, expected to launch in October 2024, Miriam writes.
The big picture: The Europa Clipper mission follows in the tradition of others — like NASA's Voyagers — that have sent pieces of art representing humanity into the cosmos.

The poem uses water as a thread that binds Earth — and all of its humans — to Europa, a moon with an ocean beneath its icy shell.
For Limón, writing this poem was a very human endeavor.

"The thing I think that makes me the most beautifully overwhelmed is the idea of all the humans that are going to read it," she tells Axios.
The poem, called "In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa," is featured on a NASA webpage where people can sign up to send their names to Europa with the spacecraft.
"I think to have it feel collective is really, really extraordinary to me, because it does feel like it's not my poem," Limón says. "It does feel like a collective poem. And as soon as I wrote it, it felt like oh, this belongs to Earth. This is our poem for Earth."
Between the lines: Sending this poem to Europa is an "evolution" of NASA's Golden Record, which is flying through space aboard the Voyager spacecraft, Robert Pappalardo, Europa Clipper project scientist, tells Axios.

Those records contain sounds from Earth — including music, laughter and animal noises — as well as a map of where we are in the galaxy. They are now billions of miles away, flying through interstellar space.
"This is an outgrowth in that we're not going to the stars," Pappalardo says. "There's no message to aliens here. This is purely a message to ourselves and a symbolic message to Europa."
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2023
~My portrait was painted by Jackson *******~

<|>

there are no lines or lies in my writings
there are no definitions and perception is only your truth.
Therefore,
my poems are splats and drips, you make them into paintings that hang in your own private museum,
but signed by me as first passenger



<|>

when did I write these words?

can’t recall, though undated,
they seem all too familiar, and thinking that if I didn’t,
I should have…
for the title of this ‘poem painting’ has lain in quietude,
a resident in my file of
“someday writs, awaiting,”
when the itch demands you will
essay
the admixture of words and swords
that will cut a newborn reciprocity of thee and me,
an unbound bind that ties and frees us
from and by our shared senses…

today, an  inadvertent blinding sunlight stumble is demanding a
fulsome scratching

<|>

the portrait of each is the irrational intersectional of splats and drips,
each viewer, reader, filters the image through a common
uncommonality,
which is as it should be,
for if we are each created in His image,
how glorious is the diversity of our deities,
each of us a tiny drop of paint on a tableau
of a small planet, insignificant but
uniquely beautiful intelligent species of godlike creatures,

human

<|>

the précis of this conundrum conversation bewilders,
a single word drops,
of plaint, paint, blood,
a seconds blush blurred
that is the building blocks of imagery
I state is mine,
but now realizations swiftly fertilize,
the portrait is not of me,
but of me blended into thee,
and this poem,
is our composition

that hangs in each of our primary
museum,
newly re-titled,
**A Passenger, Realized
Sept 13, 2023
8:35AM
NYC

sunlight direct in a tall building blocks away sneaks into my room,
blinding me into awareness
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2023
From Pradip:

”The place you occupy in my heart leads me to worry.  Please take good care.”

<>
the wonderful mystery of loving art,
which is shorthand for loving the
artist’s soul
which, a revelation and a relevation
of one’s humanity, and character, is essential “essence” of poetry,
the true power of the written word

this man I likely will never meet, offers me
a place in his heart, which is concomitant
with responsibility of giving loving, obligatory!
the one and only commandment
within his  incredible simple unintended  poem on the power of
giving love, or giving life

through each other’s scribing, we each worked, wormed
into the others heart, the repository of the energizing,
acts of loving, so,powerful that they cross
approximately 7300 miles as the crows flies

perhaps my pessimism is unfounded, overdone,
and we will yet embrace and I will (gently) bounce
his granddaughter upon my knees, something,
with which I possess a modicum of experience

yes, I think I’ve changed,
in a subtle ways;
in my new heart are thousands of rooms
eager awaiting roomers and boarders
who need pay their voluntarily rental
with simple words and even simpler
acts

yeah, you understand…
Augustus  18 2023
S + 2 weeks
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2023
“The executioner’s face is always well hidden”

a Bob Dylan lyric

<>
mine own “ex,” in chest encased, silent, with grimacing smile,
happy to be of sir-vice, sent home unhappy, cause his cut,
not quite deep enough
this time,
though nearly succeeded,
but his biz is an-all-or-none inclusive Swifty tour, disillusioned,
he don’t get paid unless he brings my punched ticket to a glorious
sadness conclusion

someone asked (axed in local accent) if I’m nearer my god
having survived despite my best efforts at self destruction,
to which I’m smiling when uttering a “heartfelt prayer” of
Hell No!

cause the channel always been open and either side can initiate when so desired, the gates of love always open,
so wasn’t surprised when playing with my matches,
he went silent, but knew fully well, Mr. G a risk taker,
put his roulette chips on a “basket bet,” (1)
needing a double 00, to collect,
because, shoot, the timing was good…

Me?

ain’t naive enough to hope that a prayerful request
would not be met with a “now you want some intercession?”
and a heavenly sneer, cause we always been perfectly clear,
with each other, ask and you won’t receive, and none of that
what have you done for me lately razzamatazz,
nah, the record impurities gray
and no pencil erasures allowed…

knowing that the executioner will be back’ round someday,
my wounded heart too tempting to pass up twice, and
that’s ok, this old man learned to live with
a not entirely pleasant uncertainty,

”This old man, he played one,

He played knick-knack on my thumb;

With a knick-knack paddywhack,

Give the dog a bone,

This old man came rolling home.”


but he didn’t play two, having no kazoo!
Basket Bet

(1)
A basket bet, also known as a five-number bet, is where you bet that either 0, 00, 1, 2, or 3 will hit. It’s always these five roulette numbers. Since you need the 00 to make this bet happen, it’s limited to American roulette.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2023
LXXI

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit

   Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

LXVI

I sent my Soul through the Invisible,

Some letter of that After-life to spell:

   And by and by my Soul return’d to me,

And answer’d “I Myself am Heav’n and Hell:”

<>
But there are very rare occasions when the translation is so good it actually supersedes the original, taking it to a wider audience. If there is an argument for anyone having done that, it is probably Edward FitzGerald with his translation of “The Rubaiyat” of Omar Khayyam.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2023
The Fatigue

is newly familiar, but familiarity breeds
surrender, not contempt, for its powers
are overwhelmingly secretive, coming anew,
stealthy like evening fog, all encompassing,
departing when it chooses, only by choice,
fearing not day or brighter burn of sunlight,
or even the insistent rules
of the mathematics of a timepiece


it hides within the ordinary, the mundane,
the onerous lifting of the fork, the exhausting
chewing, chewing until sleep offers distraction,
but not necessarily relief, for the chores of
living, are an endless looping, and the fatigue

does not recognize the clock, the body’s rhythm,
only its own schedule, I proud man, am but its
vessel and vassal…
Aug 22 2023 11:03pm
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