Published September 8, 2011
the game is solved.
the kings stack up like sherwood venison,
i play red, you, black, and we skim
two of the humors across quadrants, planes,
gaps down which we all vanish.
look, this will only be interesting
if you trip up. we will only
sing skips once you play without guile again,
with tenderfoot draughts, a run like a trail
broken for trackers and hounds.
the chinooks match you perfectly,
apprehended finally by
notations, exponents, pristine
bluetick breeds of math.
you document chess matches
in a macintosh. you read transcripts
of the knight's swiveling penmanship,
the rook long as sight down a gorge,
the queen who is dark, moves
without feet or robe, sweet-talks
the good pawns of potiphar's house like a mouthful of grapes.
the ending is always the juicy bit, granite or ivory
emasculated by a clean switch,
a bounty tip, the assassination he saw coming
like the bladder of a chainsaw.
you tell me, it's finite, like language.
there are only so many words, i have just
been writing the same kings' radii,
mated meditations, pawns who reach
the other side like a lineage of abraham
to find themselves transfigured,
royal after all.
you plot your next move. i write a poem
about it. how many others have
stood in this spot before
and thought about all
the possible rays?
when were you the first to crow over
the spilled bishop from a tight,
equilateral dance?
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138,475 Literary Works • 672,141 Reviews
Hi Kylan.
you can shoot me later. I've been meaning to do this but I'm going to keep it brief.
This is by far one of your more interesting pieces. I read it twice and each time interpreted it completely differently one in context of playing chess and one in context of you writing your poetry. This has some nice depth and it's interesting to put next to this sudden leap of change in your poetry.
To read this in context, almost like you've come up to a wall pushing you to change up your game (lame pun is totally intended) explore your horizons, it makes it very personal in comparison to what I typically read from you where I find it difficult to hook onto anything you're attached too.
This is slightly awkward, slightly hesitant in its approach but you've jumped into something quite different. It's specifically remarkable here:
the reference to mac and the general construction isn't that sort of form fitting glove we're used too with you.
ease into it, don't use your vocabulary as a life buoy, as really it's weight when you're experimenting with a slightly more loose style of poetry - more conversational, personal and reliant on action. So don't go chaining it to the floor.
This is a step in a new direction and it's nice to see you trying and thriving quite well in a new set of shoes. Otherwise, not much more to say.
Yours,
Kamas
The the game is solved.
The the kings stack up like Sherwoodvenison,
I play red, you, black, and we skim
two of the humours across quadrants, planes,
……….the Chinooks match you perfectly,
apprehended finally by
notations, exponents, pristine
blue tick breeds of math.
You document chess matches
in a Macintosh. You read transcripts
of the knight's swivelling penmanship,
………….the good pawns of potiphar's- I don’t know what dis is supposed to be house like a mouthful of grapes.
the ending is always the juicy bit, granite or ivory
…………….there are only so many words, I have just
been writing the same kings' radii,
mated meditations, pawns who reach
the other side like a lineage of Abraham
to find themselves transfigured,
royal after all.
You plot your next move,I write a poem hehe, nice one. Can relate.
about it. how many others have…………….. Some spelling and capital letter mistakes were there but the likes are certainly proof of your good work. I think you wrote a free verse, the sentensec don’t quite rhyme a lot.
Heavy war undertones. Your lines symbolize truth behind the "games" we all play