hey, "the unheard poet"? I heard ya. brush up your skills.

So yesterday, I was backreading a couple of the blogs in my sidebar--it'd been awhile since I logged in--and I came across this post over at Pleiotropy. Evolution is a touchy subject--"the unheard poet" (I believe that's his MySpace) and the career evolutionary biologist certainly disagreed--but what stuck in my craw was the actual, er, 'poetry.'

Yes, due to the fact that as Dad often said, art is what you like, this young man's typed-up wordpile does technically count as poetry. I could not help feeling, however, that if it had been me sitting at a farmer's market with a typewriter and a sign which read "Free poems!" (and don't think I haven't fantasized about it! because I totally have!) I would have written something better. Something which takes the trouble to describe evolution, or at least, the poetic idea contained within the scientific ones. Namely, this!



evolve, to lift your neck above the grass,
to glimpse fresh fields that wave a brighter green.
the herd you sprang from alters as they pass;
stems gnawed to earth, trees scratched on till they lean.

to glimpse fresh fields that wave a brighter green,
your ancestors grew strong and wise, when thick
stems gnawed to earth, trees scratched on till they leaned
struck bedrock. then they learned another trick.

your ancestors grew strong and wise, when, thick
upon the ground, their cousins froze, expired.
struck bedrock, then, they learned another trick--
that beast which tames itself can conquer fire.

upon the ground their cousins froze, expired;
the herd you sprang from alters as they pass.
that beast which tames itself can conquer fire.
evolve, to lift your head above the grass.