1. They were in error, of course,
Never were soft. Inside, rambunctious
Pockets of violence,
2. And the poetry of the earth:
3. Flowers, for example, will take
Scatter, and dig in, and rise
4. Do not mistake me. This is
5. To count the ways
Or how I knew, all along,
That dazzled me into song.
6. Might have told us in
7. And been wrong.
Because time passes more slowly
Floats, even muscle,
My time, roundabout
Into your arms. Did you know
In any number of directions
Say sorcerer's hat glammed with stars—
My searchlight, consider the mathematician
All at once stumbling over
What's a dreamer, only ever
Bemused. Shuck her jammies,
Every moment of mislaying
You, my bête blanc, my obstacle,
How do we live in this world,
"Poetry 2.0" came in a sense from my husband, a computer scientist who likes to assign me titles for poems. This title did not seem likely to me when he suggested it (as many of them don't—a lot of his suggestions are jokes, including, I suspect, this one), but within a couple of hours I was working on it anyway, working on the question: Why would you need a new version of Poetry? What would it look like? Is a new version always or always never being produced?
"Refraction" came from reading I was doing last semester for a class in science and literature, which I team teach with a mathematician around our occasional symposium in science and literature. The theme this year was "Mathematics, Language, and Imagination"; mathematicians/writers on mathematics we read included Barry Mazur and Ian Stewart, both of whom contributed to this poem.