.
We don't know any more about each other than that which we can see; we stand with a magnifying glass in the middle of the Milky Way. And what we see isn't real either; we know absolutely nothing, we are divided and alone, we stand outside, we are but impatient onlookers, and we know less still about our own selves.
-- Lars Saabye Christensen, The Half Brother
-- Lars Saabye Christensen, The Half Brother
The exclusive business of the wooing
Scene's exploiting the awareness gap
That separates the lovers from each other
And both of them from us: We share with her
A sense of curious anticipation --
Wondering if he'll wake up to being fooled,
She lets her cool eyes, patrolling the cafe,
Signal things to him she doesn't quite mean --
As though in an intention field a child
Playing with chessmen went through the motions
Of taking a king -- Did you mean to mate him? --
Soon they'll be falling in one another's arms
Taking turns at gulling and being gulled,
Often gulling and gulled at the same time.
Scene's exploiting the awareness gap
That separates the lovers from each other
And both of them from us: We share with her
A sense of curious anticipation --
Wondering if he'll wake up to being fooled,
She lets her cool eyes, patrolling the cafe,
Signal things to him she doesn't quite mean --
As though in an intention field a child
Playing with chessmen went through the motions
Of taking a king -- Did you mean to mate him? --
Soon they'll be falling in one another's arms
Taking turns at gulling and being gulled,
Often gulling and gulled at the same time.
The "Scholar's Mate": image by Karophyr, 2007
The "Immortal Game" (Anderssen-Kieritzky, 1851): image by Karophyr, 2007
Tom,
ReplyDeleteVery nice, "Taking turns at gulling and being gulled,
Often gulling and gulled at the same time." And that chess board playing that game (!) Berkeley street scene yesterday resonates w/ Blake's London, as I thought when I read the London poem (and hadn't yet seen the Berkeley one. . . .
3.20
grey whiteness of fog against invisible
ridge, green shape of black pine branch
in foreground, wave sounding in channel
henceforth “representative”
form, called following
attention, but only so long
as picture, image flow
cloudless blue sky reflected in channel,
point on the horizon to the right of it
Steve,
ReplyDeleteMany thanks.
I think I'll glue this to my forehead:
attention, but only so long
as picture, image flow
cloudless blue sky reflected
This poem, by the way, was observed "from life" (as 'twere), a while ago, in the days before internet cafes rendered even the ancient courtship rituals (Thomas Wyatt et al.) a minority activity... in cafes that is.
(It has been rewritten more than once since then, in attempt to "keep up", this latest version at the encouragement of dear friend and former student Justin Davis, who reported 1. buying a book and 2. liking the early version of this poem, in it -- two small miracles not to be passed over lightly.)
Thanks Tom for this, esp. noting what you might glue to forehead (!) and this: "observed "from life" (as 'twere), a while ago, in the days before internet cafes rendered even the ancient courtship rituals (Thomas Wyatt et al.) a minority activity." (My own such rituals seem to be nil these days. . . .)
ReplyDeleteloved the gulled gulling ending and the waking up to being fooled
ReplyDeleteAnother poet, a brother Doobie, once wrote:
But what a fool believes
he sees
No wise man has the power
to reason away
What seems to be
Is always better than nothing
And nothing at all keeps sending him...
Few are the dweebs who might take wing
ReplyDeleteby means of the Gambit of Kings.
Faire Doobius!
THE MATH
ReplyDeleteInfinite game
finite number of moves
fools without number forever
Very lovely poem, Tom. Made the chess board humanly atttractive and melancholic, and the scene of youth so sweet and difficult. Can we repost at corpse.org? Andrei
ReplyDeleteThanks, Andrei.
ReplyDeleteSure, I'll pop it along to you.
in the days before internet cafes
ReplyDeletein ways online chess preferable to the older cafe-style, TC. One, you don't have to be physically present in some urban beatnik cafe (overpriced espresso, bagels,loud cafe-jass, etc) et al to play a serious game with some unnamed, invisible Trotsky--and that eliminates other hazards, not the least of which might involve........yr opponent, Trotsky