From a Moving Train (on a rainy day), Part One

T 1

T 2

T 3

T 4


T 5

One Train May Hide Another

By Kenneth Koch

(sign at a railroad crossing in Kenya)

In a poem, one line may hide another line,
As at a crossing, one train may hide another train.
That is, if you are waiting to cross
The tracks, wait to do it for one moment at
Least after the first train is gone. And so when you read
Wait until you have read the next line--
Then it is safe to go on reading.
In a family one sister may conceal another,
So, when you are courting, it's best to have them all in view
Otherwise in coming to find one you may love another.
One father or one brother may hide the man,
If you are a woman, whom you have been waiting to love.
So always standing in front of something the other
As words stand in front of objects, feelings, and ideas.
One wish may hide another. And one person's reputation may hide
The reputation of another. One dog may conceal another
On a lawn, so if you escape the first one you're not necessarily safe;
One lilac may hide another and then a lot of lilacs and on the Appia
     Antica one tomb
May hide a number of other tombs. In love, one reproach may hide another,
One small complaint may hide a great one.
One injustice may hide another--one colonial may hide another,
One blaring red uniform another, and another, a whole column. One bath
     may hide another bath
As when, after bathing, one walks out into the rain.
One idea may hide another: Life is simple
Hide Life is incredibly complex, as in the prose of Gertrude Stein
One sentence hides another and is another as well. And in the laboratory
One invention may hide another invention,
One evening may hide another, one shadow, a nest of shadows.
One dark red, or one blue, or one purple--this is a painting
By someone after Matisse. One waits at the tracks until they pass,
These hidden doubles or, sometimes, likenesses. One identical twin
May hide the other. And there may be even more in there! The obstetrician
Gazes at the Valley of the Var. We used to live there, my wife and I, but
One life hid another life. And now she is gone and I am here.
A vivacious mother hides a gawky daughter. The daughter hides
Her own vivacious daughter in turn. They are in
A railway station and the daughter is holding a bag
Bigger than her mother's bag and successfully hides it.
In offering to pick up the daughter's bag one finds oneself confronted by
     the mother's
And has to carry that one, too. So one hitchhiker
May deliberately hide another and one cup of coffee
Another, too, until one is over-excited. One love may hide another love
     or the same love
As when "I love you" suddenly rings false and one discovers
The better love lingering behind, as when "I'm full of doubts"
Hides "I'm certain about something and it is that"
And one dream may hide another as is well known, always, too. In the
     Garden of Eden
Adam and Eve may hide the real Adam and Eve.
Jerusalem may hide another Jerusalem.
When you come to something, stop to let it pass
So you can see what else is there. At home, no matter where,
Internal tracks pose dangers, too: one memory
Certainly hides another, that being what memory is all about,
The eternal reverse succession of contemplated entities. Reading 
    A Sentimental Journey look around
When you have finished, for Tristram Shandy, to see
If it is standing there, it should be, stronger
And more profound and theretofore hidden as Santa Maria Maggiore
May be hidden by similar churches inside Rome. One sidewalk
May hide another, as when you're asleep there, and
One song hide another song; a pounding upstairs
Hide the beating of drums. One friend may hide another, you sit at the
     foot of a tree
With one and when you get up to leave there is another
Whom you'd have preferred to talk to all along. One teacher,
One doctor, one ecstasy, one illness, one woman, one man
May hide another. Pause to let the first one pass.
You think, Now it is safe to cross and you are hit by the next one. It 
     can be important
To have waited at least a moment to see what was already there.

From One Train, published by Alfred A. Knopf, 1994. Copyright © 1994 by Kenneth Koch.


13 responses

  1. Beautiful abstract photos, Lemony…and I love the poem, too…so very compelling….it will be with me for a while, I think…. Thank you.

    April 18, 2014 at 3:37 pm

    • Thank you very much, Scott. I’m happy you like the images. They were experimental shots that I kind of went crazy with. The kind of thing I couldn’t stop once I started. 🙂 And, yes, isn’t it such a striking poem. It is one that stays with me, too. 🙂

      April 20, 2014 at 1:02 am

    • Brookie

      Lovely and mysterious. Happy Poetry Month!

      April 21, 2014 at 10:31 am

  2. Nelson

    special effects mother nature style

    April 18, 2014 at 8:44 pm

    • That’s right. The kind you have no choice but to roll with. Thanks, Nelson. I appreciate your dropping by!

      April 20, 2014 at 1:07 am

  3. The first image is my favorite. I love it. These are soft and mysterious and kind of wonderful in white! 🙂

    April 19, 2014 at 2:20 pm

    • Thank you, George. I’m pleased and maybe a bit surprised that you like them. 🙂 I have a preference for that first one, too. It’s tucked in there that little house, somehow visible.

      April 20, 2014 at 1:15 am

  4. Pretty nice effects —– looks very successful.

    April 19, 2014 at 4:18 pm

    • Thank you, Yoshi-sensei. It was fun to experiment with these shots from the train, to see how the timing, speed/movement, rain, and window pane would effect the images. Of course, I ended up with lots of completely blurred, un-useable images. But some of the results were surprisingly clear, or blurred in a way that I found appealing.

      April 20, 2014 at 1:31 am

  5. Wow, these are so impressionistic – they almost cease to be photographs. They remind me of Gerhard Richter’s history paintings.

    April 19, 2014 at 7:35 pm

    • Such a very cool association. And I love your words “they almost cease to be photographs”: that captures something of how it feels to me when I look at them. Thank you, Richard!

      April 20, 2014 at 1:41 am

  6. These are very beautiful, Melanie. Smudgy glimpses of the world going by.

    April 22, 2014 at 12:24 pm

  7. special effects and nice poem

    April 26, 2014 at 6:25 pm

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