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Aids to Reflection
Poems of Argument and Exposition Pertaining to Free Will and Self-Reliance, Memory, Identity, Evil, Success, The Soul, God, Beauty, Mortality, and the Hereafter
by Herbert Knapp
 
If poets don't want to be dismissed as hobbyists whose hobby is of no public significance, they need to write poems that challenge both the ideas and the rambling prose of philosophers, psychologists, and assorted pretentious pundits. The poems in this book do this.

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Aids to Reflection
Poems of Argument and Exposition Pertaining to Free Will and Self-Reliance, Memory, Identity, Evil, Success, The Soul, God, Beauty, Mortality, and the Hereafter

by Herbert Knapp


















PREFACE
     These days, people write poetry when they want to listen to themselves talk. When they want others to listen to them, they write prose. So, if poetry is to be part of the general conversation of mankind, which at present it is not, poets must stop conceding the superiority of prose for argument, instruction, and thank-you notes. It was not always so.
     In 2011, David Coleman, president of the College Board, told an audience of students, “People really don’t give a shit about what you feel or what you think. What they instead care about is can you make an argument with evidence, is there something verifiable behind what you’re saying.”
He was talking about their ability to write prose, but his admonition, con brio, also applies to those of us who write poetry. Speaking broadly, poets have retreated to the nooks and crannies of society where they count the stripes on tulips and comfort themselves with the specialness of their feelings. Now, it’s true that one of our greatest philosophers, C.S. Pierce, didn’t think feelings were the opposite of thought. He thought they were thought and that the highest, most general thoughts could only be felt. So, poets focusing on their feelings in their lonely rooms can claim they are merely trying to express the highest, most general thoughts that can only be felt.
     Right, but if poetry is not to be confined to lonely rooms (and creative writing classes), poets need to challenge the widespread presumption that prose is for thinking and poetry a form of self-administered therapy. Rene Girard laid it on the line when he said, “If we don’t believe certain texts can help us not only esthetically but intellectually and ethically, . . . then literature is an empty and dying cult.”
     The poems in this book are part of an ongoing conversation that crosses seas and centuries, which is why they are often followed by comments—quotations—from people who have reflected on the same questions.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Preface
A Reflection on the Need for Reflection
WORK IS NOT ENOUGH

Reflections on Free Will & Self-Reliance
NO ONE BETS AGAINST THE CARDS HE GETS
SO MUCH FOR BEING CAPTAINS OF OUR FATES
FREE AT LAST
NOT NECESSARILY WHAT SHOULD
EVERY CHOICE WE MAKE DEPENDS
DISOBEDIENCE
PRISONS AND PRIZES
IF YOU’RE SO FREE
DOGS ARE FREE TO BARK
A FREE MAN IS CONFINED
IMAGINE
A CHOICE IS LIKE A PHOTOGRAPH
MUTUALITY
THE MIND
THE AGE OF SELF-RELIANCE

Reflections on Memory
MEMORIES
WHAT DID I FORGET?

Reflections on Identity
LOOK AT YOURSELF
STORIES AREN’T MADE OF STUFF
YOU
TOGETHER AND ALONE
THE MURDERER IN MINNEAPOLIS
NATURAL SELECTION
THE COMPETITOR
WE’RE NOT AS SEPARATE AS WE SUPPOSE
HUSBAND TO WIFE
IF YOU WERE ME
LOOKING WITHIN
A SHAM
KNOW THYSELF
REFLECTIONS ON AN INCIDENT AT A DINER
CHILDREN WHO REJECT THEIR PARENTS WILL
ENEMIES

Reflections on Evil
THE LORDS OF FASHION
JUDGMENT
THE DUNCES
E PLURIBUS UNUM
A DIFFERENT LIGHT

Reflections on Success
WHAT’S WRONG WITH SUCCESS

Reflections on Soul
THE SOUL
A CHEAP AND COMMON TRICK
WHAT CAN’T BE SEEN AND MEASURED CAN’T EXIST
THE MIND / BODY PROBLEM

Reflections on God
OUTSIDE LOGIC’S LAWS
REVELATION
THE RESEMBLANCE
THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF CREATION
GOD AND THE HEREAFTER
CERTAINTIES
CAN A BLIND MAN COMPREHEND THE SKY?
DO TUNES EXIST?
SEEING
Reflections on Beauty
THEY BELIEVE ANYTHING
I KEEP MY DISTANCE
A RELIC FROM A WORLD BEYOND OUR NOSES
BEAUTY IS NOT A THING
ON THE CURIOUS BEAUTY OF INFANTS
NINETY-EIGHT POINT SIX

Reflections on Mortality
SHADOWS
ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT
ON MAKING HERSELF UP
I’LL DO WITHOUT
MEMENTO MORI

Reflections on The Hereafter
NOTES ON EXPERIENCE
SUBSTANCE
A RUMORED CITY
CONVERSATION
PERFECTION
STILL WATERS BREED SCUM
A REFLECTION ON THE NEED FOR REFLECTION
WORK IS NOT ENOUGH

You’ve read we’re living on a dying star;
the Bible’s an anthology of lies;
and we, ourselves, have no more consequence
than fetuses or flies.

The world is full of things it doesn’t pay
to think about. So get in gear.
Forget that guff about there being some
purpose to our being here.

Work’s the sovereign cure for grief,
Work is happiness and healing.
Work provides relief
from thinking and from feeling.

We work at working so we get things done
and work at playing so we have more fun.
We work at learning how to meditate,
at staying married, and at losing weight.

But when I wake before it’s time for me
to go to work, I see. . . . It’s clear
that work is not enough. I must confront
the strangeness of my being here.
A REFLECTION ON FREE WILL AND SELF-RELIANCE
DISOBEDIENCE

Do we do according to
commands that we don’t know that we receive?
I don’t see how it can be otherwise.
It’s something I would rather not believe.

But what else can we think? We’re breast-fed dreams
that we do not request, and our thoughts grow
from seeds we do not sow. Why we don’t even
know the rules we follow when we speak.

But if my thoughts are governed by
the changing light of my experience,
I’m just the shadow of some Greater Will.
All I do’s close-order drill!

“So disobey!” “Okay, I’ll do it now!”
Experience steps up to show me how.


A scientific realism based on mechanism, is conjoined with an unwavering belief that the world of men and of the higher animals is composed of self-determining organisms. This radical inconsistency at the basis of modern thought accounts for much that is half-hearted and wavering in our civilization. It would be going too far to say it distracts thought. It enfeebles it, by reason of the inconsistence lurking in our background.

— Alfred North Whitehead, Science and the Modern World

 
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