If a tree falls, do you notice it?

Have you been asked, “if a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound?” In a philosophy class, the question elicits consideration of the nature of existence, observation, reality. Such as, whether something exists if you didn’t notice it.

However, the scientists among you might counter that a receiver is not needed in order for a transmitter to transmit.

A falling object makes some sort of vibration when it hits something. That vibration is, at some level, a sound that could be heard. So then yes, the tree makes a sound when it falls.

The fact that no one is hears it doesn’t matter except to the person who missed out on the experience.

So, what happens when you go through your life without being noticed? Are you living? Personal experience suggests yes.

But, are you doing more than simply existing? OK, now that is a harder question to answer.

And that’s the kind of question poetry asks and only sometimes answers.

This Week, Long Lines

The long line poem is not as common as the short line poem . In fact, some might question whether it is a poem at all when the lines become very long.

What happens in a long line? There’s room for complexity. Room for observation, questions, partial conclusions, subterfuge. Enough room for a tree to fall and something to happen, or not happen, as the case may be.

The difference between a short line poem and a long line poem is the difference between a gymnast on the balance beam and ballroom dancers.

In each case the performers will tell you that their breath matters.

However, on the balance beam one wrong breath can be catastrophic.

Whereas in the ballroom dance, one wrong breath might be something the dancers can recover from. While they create art that builds, becomes bigger and more inclusive as it continues, each individual breath matters less.

Jim Berger noted the long line form’s inclusiveness as well:

The long line is more conclusive and inclusive than the partial, subdivided short line. If short lines are like quick pants, long lines resemble great, deep breathes.
—Jim Berger, “Whitman’s Long Lines”, poets.org

This week’s poem is a long line poem. However, I won’t suggest it stands up to Walt Whitman’s use of the form. For more on Whitman’s use of long lines, see Berger’s essay at the above link.

If a Tree Falls

I waited too long to get my nails done so the whole shebang takes longer, I have time to watch the first act

of what seems a horrible movie—as in, horror of a movie—all the streets of NY are gritty

and so are the hawkers and whores, and the hero (really?) of the film is a lying cheater of a guy

who cons people to pay him for acting lessons and was probably cast by Stereotypes-To-Go, a guy that can

pass as a punk today and dealer tomorrow and I would never watch the poorly subtitled flick

—every phrase or two, a word gone missing—except I’m stuck here so anyway the hero (punk?) (con-punk?)

is being stalked by someone who phones him and his wife (cast blond and dumb by the same casting house that got the guy)

and shoots a toy wind-up robot in the middle of the streets and no one not the pimp or robot hawker or transvestite

in a vaguely super-heroine outfit (except her hair is wrong, it’s bleached, orange-blonde and short and is a wig)

not the guy at the fruit stand or the people wearing their suits to prove they are just part of the scenery

(send us some who aren’t too thin or pretty and we’ll let the suit do the work is probably what the casting head said) not

the woman pushing a stroller with what looks like a plastic baby inside, not the pizza delivery guy, none of them

notice the toy blown away at the punk’s feet by a shot out of nowhere, just like the stalker promised

and I look over when my nails near completion and there’s a woman I work with whose name

I know and can’t recall and she hasn’t seen me, or didn’t recognize me, and the subtitle asks did anyone really notice?

If you enjoyed If a Tree Falls

You’ll find more of my poems on this blog or in the collection Stars Crawl Out From Their Caves, which is available in both ebook and print.  Missed a poem of the week? Links to prior weeks are on this page.

As always, comments are welcome. Feel free to tell me what you think. Can’t understand what I meant? Think it’s great or just mediocre? That’s ok. You can let me know that too.

Have a great week!