<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<feed xml:lang="en-US" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom">
  <title>This Entangled Bank: learning the epistemology of loss</title>
  <subtitle type="html">may contain traces of knowledge</subtitle>
  <id>tag:entangledbank.co.uk,2005:Typo</id>
  <generator version="4.0" uri="http://www.typosphere.org">Typo</generator>
  <link href="http://entangledbank.co.uk/xml/atom/article/21/feed.xml" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml"/>
  <link href="http://entangledbank.co.uk/articles/2007/09/11/learning-the-epistemology-of-loss" rel="alternate" type="text/html"/>
  <updated>2007-09-11T11:44:21+01:00</updated>
  <entry>
    <author>
      <name>Ed</name>
    </author>
    <id>urn:uuid:db931cec-5cc7-468a-b746-595c7e3d1619</id>
    <published>2007-09-11T11:11:00+01:00</published>
    <updated>2007-09-11T11:44:21+01:00</updated>
    <title type="html">learning the epistemology of loss</title>
    <link href="http://entangledbank.co.uk/articles/2007/09/11/learning-the-epistemology-of-loss" rel="alternate" type="text/html"/>
    <category term="poetry" scheme="http://entangledbank.co.uk/articles/tag/poetry"/>
    <category term="trivia" scheme="http://entangledbank.co.uk/articles/tag/trivia"/>
    <link type="audio/mpeg" rel="enclosure" href="http://entangledbank.co.uk/files/_John_Berryman_The_Ball_Poem_Poetry_Speaks__Disc_3_.mp3" length="1364453" title="learning the epistemology of loss"/>
    <summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;There&amp;#8217;s something about the clipped and refined tones of the poet &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Berryman"&gt;John Berryman&lt;/a&gt; which makes me laugh, particularly when he&amp;#8217;s describing the existential anguish of a young boy coming to terms with the loss of a ball.&lt;/p&gt;


	&lt;blockquote&gt;
		&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="caps"&gt;THE BALL POEM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;
What is the boy now, who has lost his ball,&lt;br&gt;
What, what is he to do? I saw it go&lt;br&gt;
Merrily bouncing, down the street, and then&lt;br&gt;
Merrily over–there it is in the water!&lt;br&gt;
No use to say &amp;#8216;O there are other balls&amp;#8217;:&lt;br&gt;
An ultimate shaking grief fixes the boy&lt;br&gt;
As he stands rigid, trembling, staring down&lt;br&gt;
All his young days into the harbour where&lt;br&gt;
His ball went. I would not intrude on him,&lt;br&gt;
A dime, another ball, is worthless. Now&lt;br&gt;
He senses first responsibility&lt;br&gt;
In a world of possessions. People will take balls,&lt;br&gt;
Balls will be lost always, little boy,&lt;br&gt;
And no one buys a ball back. Money is external.&lt;br&gt;
He is learning, well behind his desperate eyes,&lt;br&gt;
The epistemology of loss, how to stand up&lt;br&gt;
Knowing what every man must one day know&lt;br&gt;
And most know many days, how to stand up&lt;br&gt;
And gradually light returns to the street&lt;br&gt;
A whistle blows, the ball is out of sight,&lt;br&gt;
Soon part of me will explore the deep and dark&lt;br&gt;
Floor of the harbour . . I am everywhere,&lt;br&gt;
I suffer and move, my mind and my heart move&lt;br&gt;
With all that move me, under the water&lt;br&gt;
Or whistling, I am not a little boy.&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
	&lt;/blockquote&gt;


	&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="/files/_John_Berryman_The_Ball_Poem_Poetry_Speaks__Disc_3_.mp3"&gt;Listen to&lt;/a&gt;  the recording of John Berryman reading this poem if you like, and have a laugh at the expense of all little boys.&lt;/p&gt;</summary>
    <content type="html">&lt;p&gt;There&amp;#8217;s something about the clipped and refined tones of the poet &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Berryman"&gt;John Berryman&lt;/a&gt; which makes me laugh, particularly when he&amp;#8217;s describing the existential anguish of a young boy coming to terms with the loss of a ball.&lt;/p&gt;


	&lt;blockquote&gt;
		&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="caps"&gt;THE BALL POEM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;
What is the boy now, who has lost his ball,&lt;br&gt;
What, what is he to do? I saw it go&lt;br&gt;
Merrily bouncing, down the street, and then&lt;br&gt;
Merrily over–there it is in the water!&lt;br&gt;
No use to say &amp;#8216;O there are other balls&amp;#8217;:&lt;br&gt;
An ultimate shaking grief fixes the boy&lt;br&gt;
As he stands rigid, trembling, staring down&lt;br&gt;
All his young days into the harbour where&lt;br&gt;
His ball went. I would not intrude on him,&lt;br&gt;
A dime, another ball, is worthless. Now&lt;br&gt;
He senses first responsibility&lt;br&gt;
In a world of possessions. People will take balls,&lt;br&gt;
Balls will be lost always, little boy,&lt;br&gt;
And no one buys a ball back. Money is external.&lt;br&gt;
He is learning, well behind his desperate eyes,&lt;br&gt;
The epistemology of loss, how to stand up&lt;br&gt;
Knowing what every man must one day know&lt;br&gt;
And most know many days, how to stand up&lt;br&gt;
And gradually light returns to the street&lt;br&gt;
A whistle blows, the ball is out of sight,&lt;br&gt;
Soon part of me will explore the deep and dark&lt;br&gt;
Floor of the harbour . . I am everywhere,&lt;br&gt;
I suffer and move, my mind and my heart move&lt;br&gt;
With all that move me, under the water&lt;br&gt;
Or whistling, I am not a little boy.&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
	&lt;/blockquote&gt;


	&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="/files/_John_Berryman_The_Ball_Poem_Poetry_Speaks__Disc_3_.mp3"&gt;Listen to&lt;/a&gt;  the recording of John Berryman reading this poem if you like, and have a laugh at the expense of all little boys.&lt;/p&gt;</content>
  </entry>
</feed>
