A Federation Found Poem

Found poem with thanks to Samuel Barwick for writing this and Cara Liebowitz for sharing it with Facebook and me.

That Klingon you called a macrohead?

He lost his parents

when he was seven

in a sneak attack by the Romulans.

 The android

whose awkwardness

you find amusing? He practices

every day to interact more

like you do.

 The Vulcan you push to

 be more human? He spent his childhood

 tormented for being

too human.

The changeling you mock

for being

 "stuck up"?

 He's forced to live apart

from his people because of

the choices he made.

Like this, and repost,

if you're against bullying in the Federation."

Inspired By Me

My friend and fellow activist Sally Campbell sent me this e-mail in response to a blog I wrote about the phenomenon of attempting to cure people with disabilities, especially children who have no legal rights to object to these sorts of procedures.  I was moved to turn this e-mail into a found poem, because so often I feel like my words have no impact on anyone.  Thank you, Sally, for reminding me- with your own beautiful words- that although that may seem like the case, it isn't. 

Brava!

this is a magnificent manifesto

in favor of living fully

with a disability.

I see a parallel,

though it is in many ways 

completely different with the hospice movement.

Once it is clear

that someone is moving

inevitably towards death,

it is better to comfort and celebrate them,

to allow them to be as fully alive as possible

during whatever time they have left.

Spending thousands of dollars

and suffering many painful,

useless

procedures in the attempt

to cure is such a waste.

And like a disability,

death is also not something

to be wished away,

but something to be accepted

as part of a reality

that also includes so much else

that is beautiful and meaningful.

If a cure is possible

and it will make enhance a person's life,

of course, one should go for it.

There comes a time, however,

as you say, Martina, when it is best

to let the hopeless hope of a cure go

and instead move forward

in another direction

which is also life-affirming.

Wise Words

For  Holly Lisle who spoke these words and Erin Lewy who shared them on Facebook and, thereby, with me 

Writers know

that the act of writing

 is the act of inciting
conflict in a form we cannot deny

and cannot erase, and we shoulder
the burden of this conflict

because until SOMEONE gives voice to
our thoughts, all those who share them

believe themselves 

alone.

Pieces of Advice

The December 27th found poem source material is from the fabulous Cara Liebowitz's Facebook status who copied it from the equally awesome Jessica M. Moye

Dear non disabled friends/crushes/suitors 

of ALL GENDERS.

 Women with disabilities are

just like many others.

We have xray vision

for lies

and bullshit,

 we like being

 pampered, listened to and cared for,

not just when something is wrong

either.

We will gladly let you kno

w when we are hurt

or disagree with somethingg.

 We will apologize

 when we're wrong

and have no qualms

with make up sex!

Yes I said sex,

don't like it?

 Go sit in a corner

somewhere!

The only thing that sets apart

us is we have four wheels

or sometimes two crutches

to hit you with if you do the unthinkable!

 Aside from that,

 we'll gladly give

(and receive)

 all the respect and love that's deserved.

Sincerely,

An honest woman with a disability!

Days of Craze

In a month of madness,

when the world didn’t end

although some were sure the Mayan calendar

foretold such.

but certain citizens are engaging

in mass shootings at elementary schools,

nowhere semi-rural downtowns too

near where I grew up for comfort,

and firefighters outside of Rochester.

Others decided it was appropriate

to picket the funerals of murdered

six and seven- year-olds

and yet more

decided it was acceptable

to burn a church because

they didn’t approve of the crowd

of hurricane relief volunteers

that house of God

chose to shelter.

My own pacifism

was tested to tearing

as I pondered sending feline feces

to Topeka Kansas as part of

an internet campaign to show

the Westboro Baptists exactly

what many think of them.

Housemate halts proposal,

informs me of potential felonious

results.  Activist in me

barely blinks at mideameanors  anymore.

but balks at major crimes.

 

However, the postal service

makes no such claims.

But pause in plan

makes me reconsider

becoming the evil I deplore.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Finding Christ(mas)

For my entire

life I’ve been

an imperfect daughter

of a perfect person.

Hosting a Christmas

was somewhere north

of horrifying.

I knew I couldn’t

equal her big tree,

her age-old decorations,

her self.

She bought my favorite

toy solider ornament with her,
plus I was given two new ones as gifts.
 

My beloved solider a PWD, just like me.

In fact, when he became one

It was my child temper tantrum

that kept him out of the garbage.

I laugh thinking

now I call similar behaviors

towards homo sapiens solidarity.

But my first (of many) Christmases

was successful, true to both myself

and traditions.

This imperfect person

is most pleased.

Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto

Found poem.   Reported in All Things Considered on December 22, 2009.

 

What was billed

as the first intercontinental musical interaction

between humans

and robots took place the weekend of Dec. 17.

It involved humans in Japan

using an application called ZoozBeat on their iPhones

and a robot named Shimon in Atlanta.

According to its makers,

 unlike other robots that can play music,

Shimon is perceptual.

The robot can listen

to what is played, analyze it

 and then improvise.

And it has been taught to improvise like some jazz masters.

Gil Weinberg of Georgia Tech's music technology

 program recently spoke to NPR's Robert Siegel from Japan,

 where he witnessed the historic interaction.

 Weinberg says the result is music meant to inspire people — not an effort

 to turn our music-making over to robots.

"The whole idea is to use computer algorithms

 to create music in ways that humans will

 never create," Weinberg says. "Our motto is, 'Listen like a human,

 but improvise like a machine.' "

Weinberg programmed Shimon

 to play like Thelonious Monk.

 He says that, though he and his team

were trying to teach the robot to play like a machine,

 they first had to teach it how a human plays.

 To do that, they used statistics

 and analysis of Monk's improvisation.

Once they had a statistical model

of the pianist, they could program the robot

 to improvise in that model.

Weinberg says the robot

 won't play everything exactly like the bebop pianist —

or any other jazz master —

would, though he says,

"It probably will keep the nature

 and the character of [the musician's] style."

"It's difficult to predict exactly

 what they would do in every single moment in time,"

 he says.

 "But our algorithm pretty much

 looks at the past several notes that it plays

 and, based on that, it sees what is the probability

 of the next note to be, based on all of this analysis

 of a large corpus of transcribed improvisation."

Some musicians are harder to program than others.

Weinberg says Ornette Coleman

would require a much larger body

 of transcribed work than Monk did.

"In a sense, it kind of reduces music

 to numbers and statistics," Weinberg says.

 Given enough tweaking to the algorithms

 that the program uses, he says

 he thinks they'll be able to create

 something "very similar to the jazz master."

But Weinberg says

 he doesn't think the robot

should try to play just like a human.

"In all the emotional

 and expressive energy,

 I don't think a robot can capture [it],"

Weinberg says.

 Maybe someday a computer program could,

 but at least right now, Weinberg says,

"I don't think we have the math for that.

We have some math to get the notes

and the rhythm and the scales.

Whether this can capture

the genius of Thelonious Monk,

I hope not.

But maybe."