chess – Page 3 – poems 2 die for

GAMBIT GAME

MAIN LINE (THE KASPAROV VERSION)

feel i have been
here before

but after the first few moves,
main lines of the opening
all the possible
permutations of the situation
make it a mathematical
impossibility near
exactly certain

such nuance, subtlety,
precise artistry, infinte
calculation
in this rectangular game
of squares and
wooden carvings
from crude to most
elegant a regular
box of
delights, of wonderful,
well, surprises

and painful defeats, failures,
steep learning curves
things you
fail to
see (way beyond your
ELO rating)

but Tal saw, Fischer saw,
Magnus Carlsen sees them
with stunning
predictability

and Capablanca, my Cuban
maestro, saw them shifting
knights and pawns
across a table
under a palm tree

dreaming today’s moves
during yesterday’s sleep
when he
sniffs an opening he
is in
to take advantage
like the ocean

not
like someone we could
not possibly name in
such chess
circles

splashing around here predictably,
ankle-deep in a derisory
little stream

PARTY PIECE

CHESS HYPRMODERN

CHESS HYPERMODERN

rooks be chariots

and queens
are aircraft carriers

or used
to be

dead in the water
she be
missile vectoring in
on her
down the file, across
the rank
along her sweet open
diagonal

hypersonically

CLOCK THIS

I glare
across the board
at you

my need
for victory
my need for redemption

though not
necessarily
a queen
sacrifice

there is in chess
almost always
a really
good move

perhaps even
a best move, a
brilliant move
hiding behind it

submerged in the patterninf
and yet in plain view

clock ticking while
I rack my brain
to find
my moment
of mastery

the beauty of the pieces
finely carved, exquisitely
molded

expanding the brain
Star Child style
to
the edge of consciousness.

ENDGAME

playing chess

whilst our liar leaders
think about war
at the summit
of their lives

you don’t have
to be Bobby Fischer to
win

a nuclear match
           just a matter of economy
and who makes
the
    signature
      sacrifice

        puts it all out
there
      tempts into an atomic
      no-holds
barred
         pawn gambit

GRAND MASTER

I have read
followed, listened to

so many
Grand Masters

but none
have ever addressed
the right opening
to choose

and the strategy
for the middle game

and
endgame

when playing
chess against Death

WON

we came for the big game

met on the intersection
of Meridian and
Equator

we sat for the battle

you
waited in awe

they remained standard
first,
before a piece touched

they insisted on rule changes
make the game more equitable
in other words
their game more powerful

bishops
and knights

should be made invulnerable
echoing their
feudal
reputation
(“especially the white squared one”:
someone chirping
from the corner)

and then
it had to go, whole en passant rule
as unnecessary compromising
defences

and when
Kings castle on the back rank

strength of rook
alongside be
doubled from
five to
ten

to echo their supreme
nuclear strength

we came for the game
whole world watching

what
a shock it was
the day we won

WRONG

WRONG

you have
us wrong

you do us
wrong

we are not
the head or leg
or foot or
arm of this

thing or
the other

thpugh we may
undsrsand them
better than
you do

understand you too
better than you

understand yourselves

who once gave us
a weapon
to destroy ourselves
.
across a chess board in
the endgame

all of one player
use it
to anniliate all
of the
other

except, by
grace of God and
the smarts in our head

you saw us
met us in court
working together

despite your insults and
cheap shots

so clearly
to your detriment

unless you learn
what we have you learn
would teach you good

the way is bad
but there is another

MR GLADWELL

MR GLADWELL

Oh Mr Gladwell
I am playing chess
writing poetry

writing poetry
playing chess

playing
poetry

writing chess

my brain has become
a RORSCHACH blot

there
is blood all over
the board

strange body fluids
all over the page

wanted to be a kind of genius
but I’m dissolving into
nothingness

Mozart composing symphonies
still at the breast,

working out
the arias for his operas

from within
his pauper’s grave.