The long and winding thought
As for a common language, there is no such thing; or rather, there is no such thing any longer; the constitution of madness as a mental illness, at the end of the eighteenth century, affords the evidence of a broken dialogue, posits the separation as already effected, and thrusts into oblivion all those stammered, imperfect words without fixed syntax in which the exchange between madness and reason was made. The language of psychiatry, which is a monologue of reason about madness, has been established only on the basis of such a silence.
---Michel Foucault, Madness and Civilization
Chapter three of my dissertation is about madness. It is winding around me and squeezing tightly. Must I be silent? My entire life has been a struggle to find words to express, to communicate, to break the silence. The dream of a common language is a lofty one. Is poetry, as I am trying to argue in this chapter, really a language of madness? Is it "those stammered, imperfect words without fixed syntax?"
Difference/Equivalence
Voices: Talk about God, your beloved children,the beat of centuries; histories heat stories:
tell us only of enduring pain, of foregoing gains,
take out that line that wonders too much,
remove bravery, pleasure, assurance, lust
Talk about my God, my life, my children.
separation, incarceration, captive relaxation
drones in metallic tones
like oil colors on mud and toil churn
southern summer asphalt puddles
hands: boards, leather, demands
everything settles, separates, signifies
but what does the talk of fathers say
of my body of my talk of my words of my _____
what does the talk of mothers whisper
scratch of instrument on parchment creak of elbow
like the screech of metal-hinged shackles straining
the grating of two like elements
equivalence
in the tightening of time-circle in a whitening of faces
in our thinning, spinning, pressure mounting
_____ draws up lines like veins
needle weighs against skin giving way
outside goes in; inside comes out:
balance teeters in crooked feet
under resting sheets
over testing each and every moment: color
and i enter in that moment
fighting against and for, for and against
i consider myself woman: body
i can hold with my fingers when color blurs
difference
poetry = madness=woman=_____
posted by perrykat at
12:17 PM
4 Comments:
Science tells us we exist in a world of at least four dimensions. But our paintings only cover two and a bit. The picture changes each time we look, and depending on where we stand. But in those changes our brains find patterns. We sense order in chaos. Patterns become concepts, cause and effect, prediction, storytelling, science.
There is a cost for everything.
The search for patterns involves simplification, linear approximation to equations we know how to solve. What do we choose to ignore?
I am haunted by paintings with blanks. Series of small windows on a larger view, portholes to the world. They remind me of what is not shown. Like poetry, they are not obvious to the eye, but require imagination to see fully.
I like to think there is a difference between what we sense and what we see. Like an infant trying to grasp "bird" and "flying". We simplify, we approximate, we name. We try to build meaning, to understand, to be safe. Somewhere along the way though, it seems our cultural rules for language got biased towards communication of what we see rather than what we sense. We talk linear approximations, order, not chaos. Neat theories rather than messy anecdotes.
The dazzling beauty of symmetry can blind us to our imperfect world. We sense something is not right, but we do not see it. We thus have no words for it, and feel alone in it. Social creatures, we try to express not our theories of the world, but the holes we sense in the theories. I love the theory that Hamlet is so compelling because there are fundamental inconsistencies in the plot and motivation. We sense something doesn't add up, and we linger, mute.
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Florida State University
Cognitive Level and Quality Writing Assessment Instrument
***Level 5***
Trait: Main idea. The paper clearly has and maintains a main idea throughout.
Trait: Purpose. The elements of the paper clearly contribute to the writer's purpose, which is obvious, specific, maintained, and appropriate for the assignment.
Trait: Coherence Devices. Transitional words, phrases, sentences and paragraphs smoothly connect the paper's elements, ideas and/or details, allowing the reader to follow the writer's points effortlessly.
Trait: Paragraph Construction. Each paragraph is unified around a topic that relates to the main idea. All paragraphs support the main idea and are ordered logically.
Trait: Reasoning. The essay exhibits a logical progression of sophisticated ideas that support the focus of the paper.
Trait: Qualty of Details. Details develop the main idea and provide supporting statements, evidence, or examples necessary to explain or persuade effectively.
Trait: Quanitity of Details. All points are supported by a sufficient number of details.
Trait: Point of View. Point of view is consistent and appropriate for the purpose and audience.
Trait: Grammar and Mechanics. Sentences are grammatically and mechanically correct.
***Level 1***
...
Trait: Point of View. Point of view is not established.
Trait: Grammar and Mechanics. Most sentences exhibit multiple grammatical and mechanical errors, obstructing meaning.
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We want things to make sense. But when the accepted use of language is limited to *meaningful* narrative, that is, predictive theories of patterns, we lose the rich details of sensation, the chaos behind the approximated order. We lose other patterns too minute or forgotten to recognize clearly.
My take on poetry is that it's the search for hidden meaning. The world behind the words, the etymology of our existence, the space between the pictures. In an increasingly oversimplified, powerpoint-bulleted, "slam-dunk" culture, we need something to remind us that there is more than what "effortlessly" meets the eye. There are always sub-bullets, if you read between the lines.
We knew that once. As children we often looked at papers with blanks on them. Sometimes these were tests, which one is different? But sometimes the blanks were allowed to be just blanks. No right answers, just the questions. Name an animal? Name a verb? It's okay to not have the answers, at least when we were playing ____ Libs.
:) _______ ____
The thing is... it is not that reasonable language doesn't have its place (one needs to know how to write a clear essay). Certainly it is important for both our culture and our personal lives. But thinking about the idea that medicine -- and particularly the ideas of men like Freud -- closed down a communication that did exist (or at least has attempted to close down that communication) is a bit disturbing.
Here's to facing the disturbing nature of our culture.
If I had read more than a little of it, I'm sure I'd quote some Structure of Scientific Revolution. Something about the way a paradigm structures our thinking, enabling progress but stiffling anything antithetical to the paradigm.
If the paradigm enables rational progress, perhaps its lacunae are the stuff of poetry.
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