Turning Words Poetics
Con/Jur/d, 10/7/2023
Dear Reader,
Whose voicebox muscles twitch as they read, translate to sound
repattern the language to fit their particular style of meaning-making
patter-patterning, all, one hopes without conscious intervention, except
for particular individualized habituated attentional weaving, in other
words (other sense-making signifiers) it happens without conscious
intervention, reliant on consensual consensus collective communication
to collate significance --
In the Book of Cases for a World Beyond Words and Letters, translated
into modern idiomatic English as The Gateless Gate, under Cause #2
we are confronted (Nay, if we take the Japanese dislike of
Vulpe, into the brief, ‘assaulted’ would be more accurate) a monk
who due to his own karmic fortitude, has reincarnated repeatedly
as a fox and requires ‘turning words’ to end the cycle (Please see
M.S. Merwin’s ‘Fox Sleep’ for details) - We are confronted by
both the inability and the necessity of language to intervene, on behalf
of the ineffable, or The Way as the Ancients say, where all the good
juicy, jammy fecund matter matters - the je ne sais quoi?
Got it? Good
So how does one use, Turning Words to compose, create, gestate,
and birth a poetics?
First, one listens, sees, feels, or touches a phrase, an image
an emotion, or a sense of some-thing sticking or resonating
sparkling, centering, arousing the you who is
the being, bigger, better, bolder who becomes the you
unbound from the happenstance of your circumstance
And then let the ‘phrase’ (phrase, for the purpose of this
glyphic transmission stands in for signaling received by
your preferred sensorium) just sit
Don’t try to mold it
Don’t try to fold it
Please, please, don’t try to mutilate it
Mostly, evolution takes millennia, so let the phrase mutate
in its own time, you can help
by simply sitting with it
just like a bird coddles an egg
and
PECKS PECKS PECKS
when and if, necessary
And then
Let it emerge,
As a title
As a line
As an enjambment
like the phrase
turning words
or not at all
Like prayer wheels whirling
creating each and every
combination of the 9 Billion Names of God
in the Author C. Clark's version
this means a giant eye opens on the horizon
a feat you do every morning,
Am I right?
Easier than you think and yet impossible to do
this game of Turning Word Poetics, Ready?
Get set (Without thinking of good or evil or a sliver
of embellishment)
GO!!!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> See that wasn’t so bad
was it?
Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 10/7/2023




Saving the playlist for tomorrow to listen to while we put the Halloween decoration up.