Hello and welcome to the Daily Poem. I'm Heidi White, and today I'm going to read for you a poem called Big Finish by Kimberly Johnson. Now that the last shaft of sunset has collapsed into that rubble of cloud, let's dust off and see how bright the stars are, the disclosed vault spinning like a disco ballbin drilled smack into Polaris. My oracles a bullhorn for the end to times, portending wars and rumors of wars and the stars courses headlong through the heavens.
And even though the astrophysicists as in chorus to the oracle declare that all this sparkle, every spectacular atom of it is a death. The expired light of bodies that have burned themselves down to nothing, yet they are so bright and shimmery. And as shimmy seems their light to me sequins tilting into a slot light. Don't they move like jubilation on their wheel and don't they flash with brash abandon?
And if finally they should quit their spheres and fall upon us, their apocalypse will surely seem a shower, not a wormwood but confetti. Gleeful streaking down the sackcloth dark to pronounce our doom. A wap bop, a wap bam boom. Kimberly Johnson was a new poet to me.
Lately, for the daily poem, I've been reading out of a collection called Joy, 100 Poems, edited by Christian Wyman. It's a lovely collection published in 2017, I believe. And you can buy it wherever you buy books. But I recommend it.
It's a long, you know, 100 poems that reflect on the idea and experience of joy. And this one caught my eye for a number of reasons. I wanted to read it today. First was the thematic elements.
I really loved the image embedded in them in this poem. The narrator of the poem is watching a meteor shower and you know, it's the middle of July. And many of us on the fourth of July, and I'm depending on how the experience of being able to watch some fireworks. And there's something so zestful about that, right?
So enthusiastic. So vibrant and alive about watching the sky light up with falling lights. And that's what she's seeing just in a natural way. These are stars, the meteor shower.
And it makes her feel very alive. But at the same time, she recognizes that as the poem says, astrophysicists as in chorus to the oracle declare that all this sparkle, every spectacular atom of it is a death. The expired light of bodies that have burned themselves down to nothing. So in the midst of this zestful, gleeful experience, this guy full of falling lights, she's that make her feel very alive and full of joy.
She recognizes that that's evidence of death in the heavens, the expired light. And I've noticed several of the poems that I've been reading on the podcast and within this collection have reflected on that particular concept, that idea, that theme that death and joy, that loss and sorrow, are also are very embedded and connected with the human experience of joy, which of course is different from happiness is the claim that the joy is kind of this deep piercing stab of transcendence that connects us with something beyond us. And necessarily with that is also the acknowledgement of loss that this world and this life is not completely as it should be that we don't dwell in a state of joy all the time. So joy is always connected in some way with loss or grief or sorrow.
There's a paradox there worth reflecting on in these poets in this collection and this particular poem are doing that in a very profound way. And this image does that just beautifully image of falling stars that make you feel alive, that are so beautiful and compelling and light up the night are in themselves evidence of death and loss. On the formal side, there's several things that stood out to me in this poem that I wanted to point out. One is the use of alliteration.
I'll give you a couple of lines. Yet they are so bright and shimmery and to shimmie seems their light to me sequence tilting into a spotlight. There are several sibilant sounds there, the S's and the SH sounds. And they're kind of really on the nose in your face.
You're noticing them even as you're reading them silently. And then there's a shift. There's these several lines with S sounds, the sibilant sounds. And then there's a shift to this line.
Don't they move like jubilation on their wheel? Notice that that's a question which isn't itself formally different from what happened before which was a statement. And then there's no alliteration at all but there's a regular rhythm there. So what she's doing is kind of keeping you on your back foot.
There's this sense that she's going to use non-rhythmic alliteration and then contrast that immediately with a question that's very rhythmical and also has no alliteration so that that question stands out. So you're paying attention to it. It's a jarring shift from the formal elements of the lines that come before which draws attention to it. Even when you're reading silently but particularly when I was reading it aloud I noticed that I had to shift my reading strategy just right away.
So there's several little elements like that. If you get a chance to make up this collection and pay attention to this poem it's really lovely for those kinds of things. And then of course that final line. A Wap Bapalupap, a Wap Bamboom.
The poem ends with some nonsense sounds that we associate with songs from the 50s or whatever. And that goes to Kimberly Johnson herself which I wanted to point out that she's a professor of Renaissance literature and there's several of these ideas from the past that are embedded within this poem. Disco Ball and the astrophysicists. Those are contemporary ideas along with some of these things from the past.
The poor attending wars and rumors of wars, the stars courses, the oracle. So there's this kind of again this disequilibrium. Is she writing a formal poem about past ideas or is she writing a contemporary poem in free form with all of these new kinds of things like astrophysicists. So and there's this that closing line.
A Wap Bamboom. I just thought was perfect. I loved it because it's the nonsense syllables. It's got the booming sounds that you get from fireworks or whatever.
And also a lovely commentary on the nonsense of the end of the world. So here it is again. Big Finish by Kimberly Johnson. Now that the last shaft of sunset has collapsed into that rubble of cloud, let's dust off and see how bright the stars are.
The disclosed vault spinning like a disco ball been drilled smack into Polaris. My oracle's a bullhorn for the end times. Portending wars and rumors of wars and the stars course had long through the heavens. And even though the astrophysicists as in chorus to the oracle declare that all this sparkle, every spectacular atom of it is a death.
The expired light of bodies that have burned themselves down to nothing. Yet they are so bright and shimmery. And to shimmy seems their light to me sequins tilting into a spotlight. Don't they move like jubilation on their wheel and don't they flash with brash of Andon.
And if finally they should quit their spheres and fall upon us, their apocalypse will surely seem a shower, not of warm wood, but confetti, gleeful, streaking down the sackcloth dark to pronounce our doom. A Wap Bop, a lube up, a Wap Bamboom. This has been the Daily Poem. I'm Heidi White and we'll see you again tomorrow for another poem.