{"id":20131,"date":"2018-03-30T09:25:10","date_gmt":"2018-03-30T13:25:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=20131"},"modified":"2018-03-30T09:25:10","modified_gmt":"2018-03-30T13:25:10","slug":"words-as-obstacles-words-as-solutions","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2018\/03\/words-as-obstacles-words-as-solutions\/","title":{"rendered":"Words as Obstacles, Words as Solutions"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/images\/aerial_shanetaremi.jpg\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full\" style=\"width: 100%;\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/images\/aerial_shanetaremi_med.jpg\" alt=\"Image: 'Aerial,' by Shane Taremi on Flickr\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p class=\"smalltext\"><em>[Image: &#8220;Aerial,&#8221; by Shane Taremi. (Found <a title=\"Flickr.com: 'Aerial,' by Shane Taremi\" rel=\"noopener\" href=\"https:\/\/www.flickr.com\/photos\/shanepix\/33095076714\/\" target=\"_blank\">on Flickr<\/a>; used here under a Creative Commons license &#8212; thank you!) According to the photographer, this is an aerial portrait of his wife&#8217;s face &#8212; evidently produced with the help of dozens (hundreds?) of other people. (I like to think his wife&#8217;s name is &#8220;Ariel,&#8221; but, well, no idea.) Can&#8217;t see the portrait? Shrink the browser window a bit narrower, or just move back a foot or two from the screen.]<\/em><\/p>\n<p>From <a title=\"whiskey river: 'Rising in Perilous Hope,' by Marge Piercy\" rel=\"noopener\" href=\"http:\/\/whiskeyriver.blogspot.com\/2018\/03\/rising-in-perilous-hope-what-can-i-hold.html\" target=\"_blank\"><em>whiskey river<\/em><\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>Rising in Perilous Hope<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>What can I hold in my hands this morning<br \/>\nthat will not flow through my fingers?<\/p>\n<p>What words can I say that will catch<br \/>\nin your mind like burrs, chiggers that burrow?<\/p>\n<p>If my touch could heal, I would lay my hands<br \/>\non your bent head and bellow prayers.<\/p>\n<p>If my words could change the weather<br \/>\nor the government or the way the world<\/p>\n<p>twists and guts us, fast or slow,<br \/>\nwhat could I do but what I do now?<\/p>\n<p>I fit words together and say them;<br \/>\nit is a given like the color of my eyes.<\/p>\n<p>I hope it makes a small difference, as<br \/>\nI hope the drought will break and the morning<\/p>\n<p>come rising out of the ocean wearing<br \/>\na cloak of clean sweet mist and swirling terns.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Marge Piercy [<a title=\"Google Books: 'Colors Passing Through Us,' by Marge Piercy\" rel=\"noopener\" href=\"https:\/\/books.google.com\/books?id=kQ0wAAAAQBAJ&amp;pg=PT155#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;<a title=\"whiskey river: 'To Sleep' (excerpt), by Ronald Wallace\" rel=\"noopener\" href=\"http:\/\/whiskeyriver.blogspot.com\/2018\/03\/its-dangerous-to-lie-down-midday-late.html\" target=\"_blank\">and<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>To Sleep<\/strong><br \/>\n<em>(excerpt)<\/em><\/p>\n<p>It&#8217;s dangerous to lie down<br \/>\nmid-day, late March and dark,<br \/>\na heavy, wet snow falling from the sky<br \/>\nor rising from the ground, it&#8217;s hard<br \/>\nto say, the day a blur<br \/>\nas you drift off toward sleep<br \/>\nrather than keeping your eye on<br \/>\nthe great world around you<br \/>\nwhere it should be if you are<br \/>\nto earn the right to be<br \/>\ncalled a poet, attentive to<br \/>\nthe details of everyday life&#8212;<br \/>\nthe quality of light, the specific<br \/>\ngravity of the snow, the exact<br \/>\nweight of birdsong and wing.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Ronald Wallace [<a title=\"CONSTRUCTION Literary Magazine: 'To Sleep,' by Ronald Wallace\" rel=\"noopener\" href=\"http:\/\/constructionlitmag.com\/the-arts\/poetry\/to-sleep\/\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>Not from <em>whiskey river<\/em> (although I did find <a title=\"Twitter: whiskey river, excerpt from 'Rhymes with Orange,' by Marjorie Stelmach\" rel=\"noopener\" href=\"https:\/\/twitter.com\/riskywiver\/status\/967149634870063104\" target=\"_blank\">an excerpt<\/a> on what seems to be <em>whiskey river<\/em>&#8216;s Twitter feed):<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>Rhymes with Orange<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 4em; padding-right: 4em; font-size: 90%; line-height: 1.25em;\"><em>William Stafford, when asked how he manages to write <\/em><em>every single morning, answered: \u201cThere\u2019s no such thing <\/em><em>as writer\u2019s block for writers whose standards are low enough.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n<p>At first, it&#8217;s wrenching, the body&#8217;s changes:<br \/>\nYour candle-count rises and your flesh descends.<\/p>\n<p>Your fading beauty is already tinged<br \/>\nwith gravitas (or gravity). Regardless, it portends<\/p>\n<p>a slide into decrepitude. You claim that you refuse to cringe<br \/>\nfrom aging&#8217;s alchemy? Insist that in your case it ends<\/p>\n<p>in gold? Not likely. <em>Sepia<\/em>. <em>Bruise<\/em>. A dingy,<br \/>\nporous <em>bone-color&#8212;<\/em>brittle. Shade of old bread.<\/p>\n<p>What&#8217;s the antidote? \u201cWhat rhymes with orange?\u201d<br \/>\nThe answer&#8217;s \u201cNothing.\u201d Resign yourself, my friend.<\/p>\n<p>If the squeaking hinge in the adage<br \/>\ngets the oil, okay: <em>Olay<\/em> it on.<\/p>\n<p>Let no expense be spared. A syringe?<br \/>\nA scalpel? Hair implants? Extend<\/p>\n<p>the artifice as best you can. You think your image,<br \/>\ngrinning in the glass, will stay <em>the fairest in the land?<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Don&#8217;t make me laugh. Confess: where you&#8217;re hinged,<br \/>\nyou ache, you part your hair behind, can&#8217;t<\/p>\n<p>risk that peach. Admit: you sup on porridge;<br \/>\na sniggering footman holds your coat. Enough. <em>Amen<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>As the Brits say, stop your wingeing.<br \/>\nLike the poet beset with writer&#8217;s block: give in.<\/p>\n<p>Rhyme&#8217;s a pain and growing old&#8217;s a bitch.<br \/>\nLower your standards. Pour the wine.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Marjorie Stelmach [<a title=\"American Journal of Poetry: 'Rhymes with Orange,' by Marjorie Stelmach\" rel=\"noopener\" href=\"http:\/\/theamericanjournalofpoetry.com\/v3-stelmach.html\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;and:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>What It Looks Like To Us and the Words We Use<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>All these great barns out here in the outskirts,<br \/>\nblack creosote boards knee-deep in the bluegrass.<br \/>\nThey look so beautifully abandoned, even in use.<br \/>\nYou say they look like arks after the sea\u2019s<br \/>\ndried up, I say they look like pirate ships,<br \/>\nand I think of that walk in the valley where<br \/>\nJ said, You don\u2019t believe in God? And I said,<br \/>\nNo. I believe in this connection we all have<br \/>\nto nature, to each other, to the universe.<br \/>\nAnd she said, Yeah, God. And how we stood there,<br \/>\nlow beasts among the white oaks, Spanish moss,<br \/>\nand spider webs, obsidian shards stuck in our pockets,<br \/>\nwoodpecker flurry, and I refused to call it so.<br \/>\nSo instead, we looked up at the unruly sky,<br \/>\nits clouds in simple animal shapes we could name<br \/>\nthough we knew they were really just clouds&#8212;<br \/>\ndisorderly, and marvelous, and ours.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Ada Lim\u00f3n [<a title=\"Poetry Foundation: 'What It Looks Like To Us and the Words We Use,' by Ada Lim\u00f3n\" rel=\"noopener\" href=\"https:\/\/www.poetryfoundation.org\/poems\/56379\/what-it-looks-like-to-us-and-the-words-we-use\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;and:<\/p>\n<blockquote style=\"font-family: monospace; font-size: 85%; line-height: 1.25em;\"><p>I know of places, actions, and things. Most of my vocabulary describes places and is used to move you there. To move, try words like forest, building, downstream, enter, east, west, north, south, up, or down. I know about a few special objects, like a black rod hidden in the cave. These objects can be manipulated using some of the action words that I know. Usually you will need to give both the object and action words (in either order), but sometimes I can infer the object from the verb alone. Some objects also imply verbs; in particular, &#8220;inventory&#8221; implies &#8216;take inventory&#8217;, which causes me to give you a list of what you&#8217;re carrying. The objects have side effects; for instance, the rod scares the bird. Usually people having trouble moving just need to try a few more words. Usually people trying unsuccessfully to manipulate an object are attempting something beyond their (or my!) capabilities and should try a completely different tack. To speed the game you can sometimes move long distances with a single word. For example, &#8220;building&#8221; usually gets you to the building from anywhere above ground except when lost in the forest. Also, note that cave passages turn a lot, and that leaving a room to the north does not guarantee entering the next from the south.<\/p>\n<p>Good luck!<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(from the Help file for &#8220;Adventure&#8221; (a\/k\/a &#8220;Colossal Cave&#8221;), the old text-based computer game [<a title=\"Internet Archive: original 'Adventure' user's manual (1982)\" rel=\"noopener\" href=\"https:\/\/ia801209.us.archive.org\/20\/items\/vgmuseum_firstera_stwadventure-alt-manual\/firstera_stwadventure-alt-manual.pdf\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>[Image: &#8220;Aerial,&#8221; by Shane Taremi. (Found on Flickr; used here under a Creative Commons license &#8212; thank you!) According to the photographer, this is an aerial portrait of his wife&#8217;s face &#8212; evidently produced with the help of dozens (hundreds?) of other people. (I like to think his wife&#8217;s name is &#8220;Ariel,&#8221; but, well, no [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":20140,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[247,1393,250,1189,5,50,251,4159],"tags":[788,4310,4440,4704,4705,4706,4707,4708],"class_list":{"0":"post-20131","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-ruminations","8":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","9":"category-art","10":"category-videocomputer-gaming","11":"category-06_writing","12":"category-language-writing_cat","13":"category-poetry-writing_cat","14":"category-essays","15":"tag-marge-piercy","16":"tag-ronald-wallace","17":"tag-ada-limon","18":"tag-marjorie-stelmach","19":"tag-adventure","20":"tag-colossal-cave","21":"tag-stuck-on-words","22":"tag-stuck","23":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/03\/aerial_shanetaremi_thumb.jpg?fit=600%2C750&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-5eH","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20131","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=20131"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20131\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20146,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20131\/revisions\/20146"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/20140"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20131"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20131"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20131"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}