Dot

Dorothy Porter died on Dec 10th from complications with cancer at the age of 54.

Major works of poetry are not a common thing these days, certainly not in a way that gets real attention, but one of the few that still made it a cultural event was Dorothy Porter. Her verse novels were not just works that felt alive, but vibrant, exciting and, most importantly, her works were immediately and poignantly accessible to the general readership, including those who otherwise never seriously read poetry. She wrote awarding winning bestsellers in verse. That makes her unique.

There are numerous reasons to lament the passing of Dorothy Porter, she was loved, respected and honoured. The lament we'll express here is that more often when saluting someone who has passed on we are saluting them for their glory days and for their body of work which had reached fulfillment. But Dorothy Porter showed no sign that her heyday was passing; she was still in her creative prime. We lament the works we'll now never see that in some alternate world will enrich other peoples.

If you've not read any of her work, even if poetry has never been your bag, I suggest The Monkey's Mask, Wild Surmise and El Dorado. Instead of reading a big poem, you'll more likely feel like you're reading an involving intellectual thriller, lyrical and probing to the psyche. She was a class act. And with those final words we raise a chilled chardonnay, a shot glass of ice-cold vodka and a hot cup of coffee to the fresh memory of Dorothy Porter. May it remain fresh for a long time.

Europa

Let us travel
the three hundred and ninety million miles
to Jupiter's smoothest moon,
Europa.

You can't miss Jupiter
hanging over its moon
in a whirling rainbow mass
of push, pull and poison.

Feel Europa's freezing
toxic silence.

You're standing on a raft
of thick alien ice,
but you're moving -
foating like a berg
on the deepest ocean
in the unknown world.

This is the roof, the shield
of a black liquid world,
where you may one day
drop like a warm stone.

A new world
where you might learn
colder lessons
than nothing.

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Opening verse of Wild Surmise