All That is Shimmers is not Gold

Shimmer

The pear tree that last year
was heavy-laden this year
bears little fruit. Was
it that wet fruit spring we had?
All the pear tree leaves
go shimmer, all at once. The
August sun blasts down
into the coolness from the
ocean. The New York Times
is on strike. My daily
fare! I'll starve! Not
quite. On my sill, balls
of twine wrapped up in
cellophane glitter. The
brown, the white and one
I think you'd call ecru.
The sunlight falls partly
in a cup: it has a blue
transfer of two boys, a
dog and a duck and says,
"Come away Pompey." I
like that cup, half
full of sunlight. Today
you could take up the
tattered shadows off
the grass. Roll them
and stow them. And collect
the shimmerings in a
cup, like the coffee
here at my right hand.


I think this poem is really interesting in two ways. One is the intimate conversational tone it conveys. It comes off as dialog one would be saying over the breakfast table, especially here:"Was/it that wet fruit spring we had?" These are lines you say to someone you live with, and Schuyler is including the reader in this conversation. I'm sure the time spent with Fairfield Porter and his wife influenced this casual tone. Given what I know about his personal mental and social issues, I don't think he could have achieved this level of intimacy without those people around him who gave him the opportunity (which they probably gave him with intention since he was less social) to have intimate connections.

Another reason I think it interesting is the images it convey. They're very strong and seem to ring a similar bell to Jane Freilicher's paintings, where she super imposed flowers or vases over windows. Schuyler is looking out of the window here and does focus on the pear tree, but not too much else about the landscape. He does notice the light:

"All the pear tree leaves

go shimmer, all at once. The
August sun blasts down
into the coolness from the

ocean."

...

"The sunlight falls partly

in a cup: it has a blue
transfer of two boys, a
dog and a duck and says,
"Come away Pompey." I
like that cup, half

full of sunlight."

Freilicher, or any painter, has to take note of the light and how it affects the image they are rendering. However, poets do not have to do this.