Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Rebecca Wolff’s "Experiment in Divination: Voice and Character" is a meditation on knowledge, change, and the elusive nature of understanding. The poem, through its recursive phrasing and questioning, enacts a process of divination—an attempt to grasp something beyond immediate perception. The title itself suggests a deliberate trial, an inquiry into how voice (as an act of articulation) and character (as a stable or shifting identity) function within a system of uncertainty. The speaker engages with a process that is both ritualistic and destabilizing, searching for a way to “proceed” while acknowledging the impossibility of fixed knowledge.

“There is a curiosity that knows / I know.” This opening introduces a paradox: curiosity is typically linked to not knowing, to a desire for discovery. Yet here, curiosity already “knows,” as if the act of questioning carries an inherent awareness. The repetition of “I know” reinforces this tension—what exactly is known? The phrase stands without an object, suggesting that knowing itself is the subject of inquiry.

“Deathless ceiling of unknowing / I know.” This striking image further complicates the idea of knowledge. A “deathless ceiling” suggests an unbounded limit, something infinite yet enclosing. “Unknowing” here is not ignorance but a kind of expansive, eternal state—perhaps the very condition that divination attempts to penetrate. The assertion “I know” follows again, challenging the previous idea of unknowing, or perhaps coexisting with it, suggesting that knowledge and ignorance are intertwined.

“Querent,”—this direct address marks a shift. In divination, the querent is the person who seeks answers, who asks the questions in a reading (such as tarot or oracle consultation). By invoking this role, the poem positions both speaker and reader as seekers, participants in the ritual of inquiry. The next lines—“Who I ask / is changing // all the time / changing / now changed.”—underscore the instability of identity and circumstance. The use of present participles (“changing”) gives the impression of an ongoing process, only to be abruptly undercut by “now changed,” which suggests a completed transformation. This play between flux and finality echoes the nature of divination itself: the attempt to grasp something in motion, to see a pattern where there is none.

The questioning that follows—“How else is one to know / How is one to know how to proceed”—introduces the central preoccupation of the poem. It is not simply knowledge that is sought but guidance, a way forward. The structure of the questions, particularly the repetition of variations on “how to proceed,” mirrors the way divination rituals often present ambiguous answers that require interpretation. The phrase “the course of action” appears as a fragment, reinforcing the uncertainty—the course is not defined, only invoked.

“A non-reflective surface / a playing card on a wooden picnic table / a knot of knowing on a node of playing.” These images further develop the theme of seeking answers in signs and symbols. A “non-reflective surface” suggests opacity, a refusal of clear answers. The playing card is a literal reference to divination, evoking tarot or cartomancy, yet its placement on a picnic table introduces a casual, almost mundane setting. The final phrase, “a knot of knowing on a node of playing,” is particularly rich—“knot” and “node” both suggest entanglement, connection points where meaning might be held or revealed. The juxtaposition of “knowing” and “playing” suggests that understanding might emerge through chance, through the act of engaging with randomness.

The poem cycles back to its central question: “How is one to know / How else is one to know how to proceed.” The repetition becomes incantatory, reinforcing the struggle for direction. The final phrase—“How is one to make the motion against”—is left incomplete, as if the question resists resolution. The lack of an object or conclusion leaves the reader suspended in uncertainty, mirroring the experience of seeking guidance from an ambiguous oracular source.

The closing lines—“And there’s forever / and that’s a mighty long time.”—introduce a shift in tone. The phrase “that’s a mighty long time” has a colloquial, almost fatalistic feel, contrasting with the heightened, abstract language of the preceding lines. This final assertion places the entire act of questioning within the vast, ungraspable scope of eternity. If “forever” is the only certainty, then the search for knowledge, for direction, is both urgent and ultimately futile—everything is changing, but time itself stretches indefinitely.

"Experiment in Divination: Voice and Character" enacts the very instability it examines. Through its fragmented structure, recursive questioning, and interplay of abstract and concrete imagery, the poem captures the experience of seeking meaning in an uncertain world. The voice of the speaker wavers between assertion and doubt, while character itself—whether the speaker’s or the querent’s—remains in flux. In the end, the poem suggests that knowledge, like identity, is always provisional, always shifting, and that the act of divination is less about finding answers than about engaging with the process of questioning itself.

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