US And Canada Report

Native American Poet Celebrates and Commiserates the Human Condition

Native American Poet Celebrates and Commiserates the Human Condition

The world, as Shakespeare mused, has music for those who listen. But the world is also a canvas, broader than the imagination.
New poetry collection portrays humanity in all its facets, both light and dark.

In Across the Blood Red Plain, Native American poet-scientist Dennis Foster explores the human condition in all its facets, light and dark, buoyant and despairing, rational and emotional. At once deeply personal and yet universal, his reflections, musings, and chronicles of life from birth to death impart a plethora of emotions, from tenderness to outrage, but also an intellectual grasp and appreciation of the astronomically low odds of being born at all. His poems both celebrate and commiserate, embrace and embroil, tantalize and deny, but, always and in all ways, depict what it means to be human.

In the academic world, Dennis Foster is known as one of the world’s leading developers of educational software and textbooks. To the computer industry, he is an expert in the field of artificial intelligence, acclaimed for his pioneering work in medical diagnosis, robotics, and behavioral science learning. To the financial community, he is an authority on franchising, business management, and financial strategies.

Nevertheless, he is fond of reciting Albert Einsten’s advice: “Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods.” Foster professes that “the world, as Shakespeare mused, has music for those who listen. But the world is also a canvas, broader than the imagination, with boundless variety, color, and detail, for those who look. Each day greets us with the ebullience and splendor of nature. No one who wanders among the mysteries and beauty of the earth can help but to wonder at the universe. As the days break and fade like the scattering of leaves across a golden field, I celebrate each day, if not always with ebullience, with loving. For those I loved and those who loved me. For the enrapture of the immense sky and the coddling sun. For the endless stars scattered like jewels across the umbrella of the night. And most of all, for the impossible fortune of having existed at all.”

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