Not that long ago, I wrote a fair amount as a poet, and produced some poetry CDs. Over the years, I’ve quietly been writing poetry about games I’ve played and loved. Yesterday, I talked with podcast host Scott Jones about writing poetry for one of his shows. I thought that, during this time of ascending crisis, poetry might be a kind of balm for us. So here is the first poem.
By Harold Goldberg
When here is not exactly here
And there is not precisely there
We move together on the sands
We slide down the dunes
and even up, like magic
outside the game, you walk the dog
like you are a border collie,
hungry for affection
Once inside, dogless on the outskirts,
downstairs to fold.
And what I hear now at the window
is the sound of cars and tires below
making the sounds of waves
and then sand swishing in the wind
And then those seconds
There’s no traffic,
when here is so exactly here.
Journalist/author Harold Goldberg is the founder of the New York Videogame Critics Circle and the New York Game Awards.