Scholars in Love

This used to be called Mind F*****g...see what you think.

“The purely private is not real,”

he says, but she knows

otherwise.

 

Translating the intimate whisper of separate pencils on paper,

giving voice to the philosophy of coupling,

while explaining Peircean pragmatism.

Proving

conversation is superfluous.

 

Neither looks when the other does speak, yet

rapid-fire connections and cross-references flicker across synapses

while attending to dinner.

(Sparring words, liberally used in class, have no place at the table).

 

Brushing teeth,

a clamorous swishing, gargling, spitting and rinsing

twin Rorschach blots of paste, leaving

that fine spray of white on their dual reflection.

 

Climbing into bed,

a sonorous easing, groaning and squeaking of

decades’ coils catching

their bodies in side-by-side hollowed-out spaces.

 

His glasses slipping down his nose;

hers remaining firmly

pressed into dents,

as they peer into books.

A quick lick of cross-hatched fingers turning pages, then

turning covers up, blanketing the slumber of a mingled unconscious.

 

Searching for knowledge,

thirsting for truth,

reaching,

just beyond his head to take a sip of water from their communal glass on the nightstand.

Interpreting his foot

(grazing her toe in the grey light of dawn)

is the abstract summary of an economy of dialogue.

She understands the language.

 

Reviews

[Greg the Bard]

There was a time that I thought I could fool my parents only to find out they knew better from the start. That's what this work reminds me of with an great open and the ending confirming my point. This is a wonderful poem the way it flows and its pace. The images go from stanza to stanza but are not the same repeat as before. Great work

[Damien Dsoul]

I am shocked to find that all this time this work has been here and never once did my eyes catch it. The poem does tell a story, intruigingly enough, and witty as well is the imagery it interplays: two scholars learning off each other while at the same time making love: the juxtaposition is just so intricately woven, it bites and inflames my immagination.

[Donald Meikle]

A more appropriate title would be mind games I see no mind f*****g here

[John Cuttito]

I absolutely love this poem..the language of early morning in bed with no words left. this is very beautifully written. the last stanza really stands out for me.."..economy of dialogue..". I find it amazing how much more can be said with a simple touch sometimes.

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

Loed this! A great read.. very good images and nuances , your descriptions are done so well..
I can see them in the bed, their glasses .. and the communal glass on the nightstand, a very good line.. this sounds like a comfortable relationship.. very good writing.

Chloe
xoxo

[Selena Chapman]

There is something to be said for the banked fire of an old and familiar love. Done with the unfamiliar posturings many people adopt when love is new, to be replaced by the ease of years of intimacy. Beautifully written.

[An Ordinary Woman]

very nice. my fave lines ....

Climbing into bed,

a sonorous easing, groaning and squeaking of

decades' coils catching

their bodies in side-by-side hollowed-out spaces.... great imagery.

I felt a certain comfort as I read ...yep I have been there too. this really is written very smoothly and elegantly.
You wrote a very thought provoking piece, very nice work. :)

[Celtic Cat]

Wow, this is an absolute Master Piece. Very well done, indeed. It's funny, due to the spacing, I originally thought the first stanza was the whole thing! Thought-provoking, that alone was!
Love this. It's very comforting, although labeled "mind f**k". Good job!

[Bubo]

Climbing into bed,

a sonorous easing, groaning and squeaking of

decades' coils catching

their bodies in side-by-side hollowed-out spaces.


Years of marriage and knowing one another so well
this actually for some reason bought familiar comfort!
I love the way you have weaved your words, very clever.........
and the sometimes stale familiar maybe creeps through now
and again...........you understand the lanaguage, which took
me back to the beginning of your poem.................

"The purely private is not real,"

[Blackbirdsong]

My dear this is simply a perfect description of what can happen in a relationship over time. I see these people clearly as you've created them here. Life is a routine and so is their marriage. It's not bad, but it's not what it was at first. I think your title is perfect as well. I can't think of anything to comment on besides my continued love of your work.

Also I think SOME people need to learn the difference between a constructive review and a....well I'll attempt decorum for the moment. But I'm certainly thinking some fierce thoughts. heh

take care :)