Wednesday, June 29, 2016

P.S. Cottier #29 Glastonbury, 1994


Glastonbury, 1994

When they invent time travel,
whether DeLorean or phone box
I won't go forward, but back.
There’ll probably be strict laws
about interference
and the paradox
as explored in science fiction
forever, and yet, a visit
to Glastonbury in ’94
surely wouldn’t be a threat,
or trigger Bradbury’s
butterfly effect?
(Unless someone already did,
and that explains the Trump.)
I’d blend into the heaving crowd,
a very happy, sunburnt piggy.

I want to see Johnny Cash live.
I want to watch the Man in Black
and hear him walk the line.
’69 at San Quentin
is out of the question,
but ’94 will do fine.

A simple time machine and off she went,
pausing momentarily to buy a tent.

P.S. Cottier



The ‘butterfly effect’ mentioned here refers to the short story ‘A Sound of Thunder’ by Ray Bradbury, in which the accidental killing of a butterfly in the distant past results in a very different future world, not least in political terms.

Apparently it was hot at Glastonbury in 1994, with no mud.

I messed up the numbering of my posts, having two marked as #24.  Today is #29.

8 comments:

  1. Oh, happy journeying! When you come back, please write us a poem about what it was like. :-)

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  2. If that's within the Rules of Time Travel, Rosemary!

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  3. I love this idea, but did not know that Ray Bradbury used the concept of the butterfly effect. I have a poetry collection of the same name, quite a twist on the term and draws on movement between now and ancient times.

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    1. His story dates from the 50s, I think, Susan. Yes: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Sound_of_Thunder

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  4. Wonderful. I love that final couplet.

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    1. Thanks, Lisa. It was fun researching the weather at Glastonbury in 1994; I assumed it would be dreadful in the first draft and had me rolling in mud!

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  5. I am screaming with the pleasure of this poem. The lightness of the longing! Wonderful.

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    1. Thank you, Kerri. I have been watching the performance on YouTube, which is great, but not as good as being there. As Mr Cash died in 2003, we really need a time machine.

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