Transcript
A (0:00)
We've all been there. You hold on to a coupon, hoping to cash it in at the store, but then you forget about it and suddenly you've got a mountain of useless expired coupons.
B (0:08)
Do you think this one's still good? Free milk.
A (0:11)
Oh, mate, that expired in 1993.
B (0:13)
Dang it.
A (0:14)
Fortunately, there are better ways to save money. Like by switching to Geico. You could save about 900 on car insurance without ever touching a coupon.
B (0:22)
Oh, how about this one? Half off floppy disks.
A (0:25)
Now you should try a bit of spring cleaning.
B (0:27)
It feels good to save big. It feels good to geico.
C (0:30)
Hi, it's Maggie. For the next two weeks of episodes, friend of the show Samia Bashir will be sharing poems with you every morning. I'll be back in the host chair on February 18th.
D (0:50)
I'm Samia Bashir, and this is the Slowdown. In 2009, I was grateful to be awarded a Kaveh Canem Scholarship to attend the Community of Writers in Lake Tahoe. I got to work with and study with some of my favorite writers. What sticks with me to this day as an experience that continues to connect me to lineage students, teachers, and the very idea of time and artistic growth. When I arrived, and for weeks before, I had been trying to make real a poem about Apian colony collapse. This environmental breakdown of bee colonies around the world sets off a cascade of harm and destruction for us all. Our survival on this planet is not singular, but communal. Bees don't just pollinate our food. They are the key to ecological continuity. What I'd been trying to do was mark this moment of die casting the alarm systems colony collapse represents, warn us that we have to do something, repair something now, or the worldwide consequences will be devastating. You know, something simple. A poem. No biggie, right? That year, Galway Kinnell was a guest poet. We poets had the opportunity to have a powerful workshop with him under the Northern California lakeside pines. The process at Community of Writers is that we all drafted new poems each night, even the instructors, and shared them with each other during workshop the next morning. That day, Galway Cannell shared a poem he'd written the Night before the Bees. I was blown away. In one night, Kannell had written the poem I had been futzing around with for weeks and weeks, including the night before, and hadn't been able to find my way toward clarity of voice and precision of poetic experience. After the workshop, he generously sat with me one on one, and I asked him about the poem. Like how? His response was a shrug. This is what I do he said, and I've been doing it forever, and honey my flabbers were gassed. But what I know now, in so many conversations with students, that's the only time Experience, attention, understanding. As far as I can tell, Kinnell's poem has never been published. I'm grateful to still have that draft, and I refer to it from time to time, to remember the power of growth, of staying with something and building upon the knowledge and experience we gain through practice and patience and willingness that what we gain is worth the work. Today's poem does something seemingly simple. It it restores the bees to their best lives. Restoration, like most things worthwhile, is far from simple. But we know, and this poet shows us that by taking such deliberate steps toward doing recovery, repair, and renewal in our poetry, as well as in our environmental stewardship, we reestablish our own ability to live our own best lives. And that, like attention, like experience, like growth, just might be worth a little more than a little bit of everything. Orchestra by Russell Brakefield Bees sleep because they need to like us together A bundle of bees asleep at night is a concertina wheezing closed in the hive they dance a democratic dance, a waltz to prioritize Abdomen wobbles a whole note I read today Some bees feel the thrum of electric current as they encounter a flower's field, which is true, but also what I need to be social spark singing field. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. And find us on Instagram at Slowdown show and bluesky@slowdownshow.org.
