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Poem On The Death of Richard Rorty


On The Death of Richard Rorty

Take a proposition, frere:
Everything is at stake:
The every and the thing.

Burning. Down. Mistake
This at your own inquisition.
Tough-minded Rorty’s gone.

The mirror of nature’s broken
After a roughhouse wedding.
The mind. Between. A swing.

Once, a canoe went out on a lake.
A paddle swerved, bringing motion
Forward, like blowing will for fire.

It reflected on water, as
Dancing girls and boys shine
A floor with their sure smoothing skitter.

One figure, in the water, touched on
Another, in the vessel. Who was firstly real?
None. Neither. The sister of knowing is making.


poem by Todd Swift
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Comments

Ben Wilkinson said…
One thing I'll always remember, and also something that has guided me in my studying of philosophy at degree level and in the writing of good philosophy essays, is Rorty's assertion that

"Philosophers write, but they do not think that philosophy ought to be writing. Writing is an unfortunate necessity […] the words in which an investigator “writes up” his results should be as few and as transparent as possible. Philosophical writing […] is really aimed at putting an end to writing. Writing always leads to more writing, and more, and still more."

Wise words from a truly great thinker. Thanks for sharing the poem, Todd.
Fri Jun 15, 01:15:00 am 2007
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