Friday, August 17, 2007

Terminal Exactness

The effort of The Waves is an effort in exactness. To test experience against language and language against experience is a task that traditionally been the job of poets It is the poet who must work at the image until image and meaning can no longer be separated. The force of poetry lies in its exactness.

-Jeanette Winterson-

I want to say something and I find words, my traditional buddies, poor substitutes. I cannot encapsulate the phrases. I am a stranger to myself. No sooner do I net a feeling in words than it escapes, the slippery eel, to mean something else.

What in the world is a poet to do?

What in the world is a non-poet to do?

So I chew on my asam and ruminate heavily. Words were meant to convey meaning and yet they fail as vessels.

How then do we communicate? When will we be able to move ideas mind to mind so what leaves one mind can find the other - without loss, without wastage, without misunderstanding?

A conundrum.



Anonymous said...

"Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life."

- Pablo Picasso

When words fail me, I use the traditional journalist's cop out: other people's words.

Then I blast some mindless, wordless techno until the verbs rush out screaming.

Nessa said...

We could meet in Jung's universal consciousness; do some out of body traveling.

Jenn said...

Marge: Good idea. I love "other people's words" for when I'm few and far between...

Nessa: We could, but how would I know you are you?

Anonymous said...

words just are just little bits of light. darkness is only a place where light hasn't made it yet. the connections between us are always there, strung like unlit japanese lanterns, even when our senses fail us. reach into the darkness between the blinking fireflies - it only takes the tiniest bit of faith.