"Garden of Eden on Wheels" at the Museum of Jurassic Technology
Apologies for the silence. I’ve holed myself in LA. And another apology for committing a blogging faux-pas. It’s always obnoxious when a blogger writes a post just to say that she hasn’t written for awhile. Who cares, right? Just get on with the program! I’m in the pit of LA and I’m trying to finish a writing project. I remember talking to Daisy Fried, a former blogger for Harriet, who said that she was fond of blogging in the morning since it warmed her up for her poetry writing. I can’t. I need to shut everything off to write. It’s terrible. So I haven’t even done much in LA (except watch an embarrassing number of hours of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservation). Haven’t hit my favorite hiking routes, taco trucks, not even the Museum of Jurassic Technology. How I love the Museum of Jurassic Technology. This is a poet’s museum. Every poet who’s been to this museum should write an ode to this museum. Anyway, I’ve been reading some fantastic new collections which I’ll blog about soon.

Originally Published: January 3rd, 2009

Cathy Park Hong is the author of Translating Mo'um, (Hanging Loose Press, 2002); Dance Dance Revolution (W.W. Norton, 2007), winner of the Barnard New Women Poets Prize; and Engine Empire (W.W. Norton, 2012). She is the recipient of fellowships from the Fulbright Foundation, the NEA, and the New York Foundation for the...

  1. January 3, 2009

    I've tried writing about the MJT. It's very very hard.

  2. January 4, 2009
     Kent Johnson

    Cathy Park Hong is right: The Museum of Jurassic Technology is a poet's museum...
    However, it does appear to be the rule today that poets, mainstream and avant alike, must ever exhibit themselves as if they were in the Smithsonian, under glass, accompanied by authenticating brass plaque...
    Perhaps the better, largely untried task for poets is not to write odes "to" or "about" the MJT, but to write *inside* that project's spirit, prepositionally emulating its strange interferences of origin and authenticity? [note: our so-called "Conceptual poetry," certified by those brass plaques it so eagerly attaches to its products, is the exact opposite of this spirit.]
    For those not familiar, the best introduction to David Wilson's masterpiece-in-process is Lawrence Weschler's Mr. Wilson's Cabinet of Wonder (1995).