Gelernter’s room. Like mine,
The cubicle is full
Of projects: dusty papers line
The wall, a symbol

Of the vanished mole
Who with upholstered hints
Fills his parental role,
Like Christmas presents

Underneath the tree
That sketch a woodland scene,
One-dimensional, but key,
Present if unseen,

Their world of Currier & Ives,
Snowbound homes and faces,
Old-fashioned, simple lives
In front of fireplaces

Just as here at Yale
A tiny niche of window,
Frosted by the braille
Of early season snow,

Dominates the room
As surely as the man
Who, hidden in the gloom,
Lends the place his plan.

Tippet Alley
February 19th, 1997

Rue de Varenne
September 21st, 2004


I wrote this after seeing a photograph of David Gelernter’s office by Steven Fugikawa in Wired magazine, February 1997, p. 151.