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Orrery: Poems
Orrery is a collection that orbits around the theme of Pioneer 10, an American space probe launched in 1972 to study Jupiter’s moons. Having achieved many firsts before reaching Jupiter and a few more after being hurled away from the solar system, the probe was retired in 2003 when NASA stopped sending signals to it, leaving it to wander alone through deep space. On a trajectory that may long outlast Earth, Pioneer has transformed from a finite object into an infinite one, a muddling of the mundane and the sublime, of mortality and immortality, that is echoed throughout the “I could have been a dancer, a stunt double, / and you, Pioneer 10, a pop can, a pie plate, / a gear driving the orrery of all you sail beyond.” Inhabiting the perceived imaginative and philosophical space of the probe, Kane’s poems ignite a radical empathy in which human beings, caterpillars, stars, animal bones and other hunks of the material stuff of the universe are seen to share a common condition. Exploring ideas of materiality, consciousness, transformation and space travel, Orrery is as exquisite as its namesake, a compact vision of our world that helps us to orient ourselves in time and space, inspiring wonder.
80 pages, Paperback
First published September 19, 2020
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
June 10, 2021
This was a favorite of mine this past May. Quiet, introspective poems on God, nature, bodies, death, the universe.
Note that there are a couple poems with lines about suicidal ideation though they aren't graphic.
Favorites:
I want so much to be captain,
to show, on the one hand,
that I am my body’s say-so,
on the other, some self-respect.
— from “On the Dilemma of Mind and Body”
Once I thought every fortune cookie
should end with to us. What is measurable is knowable—
to us. Through leaps of imagination we arrive
at fixed truths—to us. I thought I was saying we
weren’t that grandiose. Back then I didn’t sense my
disconnection. But one night, far from the fluorescent,
the halogen, the campfire light, I stepped out of a cabin
and could have cried at how close the stars were,
their pelts so thick and furred, I could feel them
pressing against me, warming me. I thought perhaps
they could feel me too, the universe, all its moving parts
engaged in their own eurekas, no longer exclusive, of us.
— from “To Us”
My mother believes if she doesn’t believe,
her prayers will be answered. What kind of god is that?
One who enjoys a good cry, one who’s got his eye
on you. So she believes in him,
but she also believes he’s up to no good, like a snake.
— from “Bitten”
Agnostic or atheist?
The light strums the fly’s wings.
I don’t know, I say. I don’t know.
The sun falls. Northern lights bulge
then thin, approach then recede.
The answer is out there, I know,
but something generous keeps holding it back.
— from “Phone Survey”
Note that there are a couple poems with lines about suicidal ideation though they aren't graphic.
Favorites:
I want so much to be captain,
to show, on the one hand,
that I am my body’s say-so,
on the other, some self-respect.
— from “On the Dilemma of Mind and Body”
Once I thought every fortune cookie
should end with to us. What is measurable is knowable—
to us. Through leaps of imagination we arrive
at fixed truths—to us. I thought I was saying we
weren’t that grandiose. Back then I didn’t sense my
disconnection. But one night, far from the fluorescent,
the halogen, the campfire light, I stepped out of a cabin
and could have cried at how close the stars were,
their pelts so thick and furred, I could feel them
pressing against me, warming me. I thought perhaps
they could feel me too, the universe, all its moving parts
engaged in their own eurekas, no longer exclusive, of us.
— from “To Us”
My mother believes if she doesn’t believe,
her prayers will be answered. What kind of god is that?
One who enjoys a good cry, one who’s got his eye
on you. So she believes in him,
but she also believes he’s up to no good, like a snake.
— from “Bitten”
Agnostic or atheist?
The light strums the fly’s wings.
I don’t know, I say. I don’t know.
The sun falls. Northern lights bulge
then thin, approach then recede.
The answer is out there, I know,
but something generous keeps holding it back.
— from “Phone Survey”
July 27, 2021
Cool concept
December 14, 2020
A quietly brilliant collection of poems which includes a fascinating series on the travels of Pioneer 10, a space probe launched in 1972 which carried on far beyond expectations and was, with some regret, retired in 2003 "when NASA stopped sending signals to it, leaving it to wander alone through deep space." Poignant, philosophical, and so very well-written, this slim volume deserves major attention. It is a small wonder/wander of a book. A gem.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews