Wikipoem ~ This Day in Mystery ~ December 14
The first hot air balloon ever was set aloft on this day,
December 14, 1782.
It was constructed of taffeta and paper because
that's what the Montgolfier brothers were, paper-makers --
The unmanned balloon rose into
the windy sky above Avignon.
The lift was so powerful the balloon tore free
from its guide-ropes and soared high into the air,
Floated two kilometers away,
Where it was stamped out by vineyard workers
who saw a flaming object in the sky,
and assumed it was a sign from God,
an announcement of the end of the world.
French poet Paul Eluard is born on
December 14, 1895, in the suburb of Saint-Denis.
Sick of tuberculosis at age 16 and confined to a sanitarium,
Eluard met a gaunt Russian girl Helena Diakonova
He nicknames her Gala. They both recover.
Gala will be the fire that lights up his life.
Nous Avons Fait La Nuit
we have made the night the night
i hold your hand -- i lie awake
i hold you and all that i have
i scratch on a stone the star that is
your power
i repeat to myself your secret voice --
your public voice
me with my conceited laugh
me who you treat like a bum.
There are fools that you revere and
idiots you lie down with, and who am i --
a coat-rack that cannot stop nodding agreement
with you -- with the night -- with everything,
surprising myself with the unknown
you become in my heart, in the pounding dark
with you dark angel, like all i love
that is new always.
It is December 14 in the year 1297, in Holland.
A 25-mile dike holding in the Zuiderzee collapses,
and the North Sea waters sweep over the country,
killing 80,000 people.
Called St. Lucia's Flood, it is so total
that when the Lowland Sea subsides,
Amsterdam, a small landlocked village,
suddenly qualifies as a port.
You and I, we make our mistakes out of sight
of the world. Not Bill Buckner.
On December 14, 1986, with the World Series on the line,
this much-admired first baseman, hobbled by
injury, lowered his glove to catch a slow roller
off Mookie Wilson's bat, watched it roll
through his legs and dribble into right field.
It is the worst error anyone ever saw,
coming at the worst possible moment,
with the eyes of all humanity upon him.
The Mets win, the Sox lose. For the next twenty years
Bill Buckner does not get through a single day of his life
without contemplating taking it.
On December 14, 2012, an armed Adam Lanza
enters Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown,
Connecticut, with the goal of slaughtering kindergartners.
Today, millions of Americans deny this happened,
they say the massacre was staged. The children
are fine, they insist, moved to a different locale.
What was the tip-off? The parents didn't weep enough.
Alabama joins the Union, December 14, 1819.
Our 22nd state has always been first or second
in its determination to keep much of its population
from voting, from being consideredfully human,
from breathing with a trope around the neck.
It's as if they ave so much to be ashamed of,
they have to blame someone else.
Neil Young nailed it. Alabam, he said, how can
you can not feel the injustice you inflict?
On the 14th of December, 2008, during a Baghdad press event,
Iraqi broadcast reporter Muntadhar al-Zaidi
throws his shoe at a visiting President Bush.
Al-Zaidi cries out: "This is a farewell kiss
from the Iraqi people, you dog!"
Bush, ever nimble, sidesteps the flying shoe,
which is a symbol of disgust around the world.
The shoe says: I walk through shit and blood and filth,
And I fly to you with all my love.
Al-Zaidi is beaten, tried, incarcerated.
But – imagine that the sea wall held,
And the The Netherlands are spared.
Picture George Bush, taking the shoe
and rubbing it on his cheeks,
absorbing the indignity, laughing for the cameras.
He knows he has gotten off easy
for all the crimes he has committed.
Imagine Alabama goes door to door,
apologizing for its sins.
And watch as brave Bill Buckner scoops
up the dribbled ball and steps on first base for the out.
This day, the fourteenth of December,
was made for you, dear friends -- for your use,
to make of what you like.
That’s how it works, this world of ours.
The dates of our lives are mapped out in advance.
Each step we take is in the footprint
of its predecessor.
So many second chances, so many permutations,
So many efforts to finally get it right.
December 14, 1782.
It was constructed of taffeta and paper because
that's what the Montgolfier brothers were, paper-makers --
The unmanned balloon rose into
the windy sky above Avignon.
The lift was so powerful the balloon tore free
from its guide-ropes and soared high into the air,
Floated two kilometers away,
Where it was stamped out by vineyard workers
who saw a flaming object in the sky,
and assumed it was a sign from God,
an announcement of the end of the world.
French poet Paul Eluard is born on
December 14, 1895, in the suburb of Saint-Denis.
Sick of tuberculosis at age 16 and confined to a sanitarium,
Eluard met a gaunt Russian girl Helena Diakonova
He nicknames her Gala. They both recover.
Gala will be the fire that lights up his life.
Nous Avons Fait La Nuit
we have made the night the night
i hold your hand -- i lie awake
i hold you and all that i have
i scratch on a stone the star that is
your power
i repeat to myself your secret voice --
your public voice
me with my conceited laugh
me who you treat like a bum.
There are fools that you revere and
idiots you lie down with, and who am i --
a coat-rack that cannot stop nodding agreement
with you -- with the night -- with everything,
surprising myself with the unknown
you become in my heart, in the pounding dark
with you dark angel, like all i love
that is new always.
It is December 14 in the year 1297, in Holland.
A 25-mile dike holding in the Zuiderzee collapses,
and the North Sea waters sweep over the country,
killing 80,000 people.
Called St. Lucia's Flood, it is so total
that when the Lowland Sea subsides,
Amsterdam, a small landlocked village,
suddenly qualifies as a port.
You and I, we make our mistakes out of sight
of the world. Not Bill Buckner.
On December 14, 1986, with the World Series on the line,
this much-admired first baseman, hobbled by
injury, lowered his glove to catch a slow roller
off Mookie Wilson's bat, watched it roll
through his legs and dribble into right field.
It is the worst error anyone ever saw,
coming at the worst possible moment,
with the eyes of all humanity upon him.
The Mets win, the Sox lose. For the next twenty years
Bill Buckner does not get through a single day of his life
without contemplating taking it.
On December 14, 2012, an armed Adam Lanza
enters Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown,
Connecticut, with the goal of slaughtering kindergartners.
Today, millions of Americans deny this happened,
they say the massacre was staged. The children
are fine, they insist, moved to a different locale.
What was the tip-off? The parents didn't weep enough.
Alabama joins the Union, December 14, 1819.
Our 22nd state has always been first or second
in its determination to keep much of its population
from voting, from being consideredfully human,
from breathing with a trope around the neck.
It's as if they ave so much to be ashamed of,
they have to blame someone else.
Neil Young nailed it. Alabam, he said, how can
you can not feel the injustice you inflict?
On the 14th of December, 2008, during a Baghdad press event,
Iraqi broadcast reporter Muntadhar al-Zaidi
throws his shoe at a visiting President Bush.
Al-Zaidi cries out: "This is a farewell kiss
from the Iraqi people, you dog!"
Bush, ever nimble, sidesteps the flying shoe,
which is a symbol of disgust around the world.
The shoe says: I walk through shit and blood and filth,
And I fly to you with all my love.
Al-Zaidi is beaten, tried, incarcerated.
But – imagine that the sea wall held,
And the The Netherlands are spared.
Picture George Bush, taking the shoe
and rubbing it on his cheeks,
absorbing the indignity, laughing for the cameras.
He knows he has gotten off easy
for all the crimes he has committed.
Imagine Alabama goes door to door,
apologizing for its sins.
And watch as brave Bill Buckner scoops
up the dribbled ball and steps on first base for the out.
This day, the fourteenth of December,
was made for you, dear friends -- for your use,
to make of what you like.
That’s how it works, this world of ours.
The dates of our lives are mapped out in advance.
Each step we take is in the footprint
of its predecessor.
So many second chances, so many permutations,
So many efforts to finally get it right.