Faced with the blank page, Writer runs.
Confronting the white spaces, Writer enters.
Emptiness indicating gaps. The writer attempts to cross.
In theory this is “bridging” – the ability to construct a bridge.
In practice, Writer uses words like rope.
Without them he would fall.
In the presence of what infers silence, Writer hears patterns and rhythms.
Sometimes also sees.
Constructing shapes of nothing, this is sometimes called.
Creatio ex nihilo referring to no context.
In absence of recognizable sound – the infinite conversation.
Writer holds there and eavesdrops.
Writing is a device.
Responsibility ends where opportunity begins, which invokes responsibility.
Writer fills the margins.
Working at the edge of labor.
If the tracks are laid, Writer composes rails.
The network is for nothing – conversation going on.
Creatio in contextus refers to complex emergence, a result of adaptation
and leftovers causally unexplained.
Writer is compelled into absence.
Children skipping cracks, stuntmen leaping canyons.
Writer is friend to correspondence
the distance in between
Setting aside is opening doors
in land without land a Writer’s building.
Writing represents a reference
context woven out of context
Portrayal is errant copy.
Narrative a fabrication.
Sentencing – destruction.
Every symbol plugs the whole
Writer can’t escape.
Writing is abiding time.
Never yet, always almost.
with nothing there
into now + here
N Filbert 2013
7 thoughts on “The Writer: a context out of context”
I like this description of the physicality of writing – it can be an emotional, sweaty business. When one is finished with a paragraph, a sentence even, the heart and mind can be so weary of all the magnificent effort.
This hybrid birth, a form of archaeology, digging as science, the science of digging, the art of concealing and revealing, building and collapsing, that is , constructing, hybrid construction, a constriction of possibilities, a constraining of maps, quantum thisness and thatness, leaving more out than in, making a point, missing any other view, poetry: the straining for meaning without even pretending success, e.e.cummins and e.e. goins, a vowel, a vapour, a string of pearls, words making doors, doors opening, sutras, stitches, hints for hunters….
don’t stop… 🙂
so many great thoughts here… love the image of the writer leaping at the end, into the unknown, making nothing become something, making temporal connections, like a mathematical sentence. And the words are the thread, binding it all together….
thank you so much
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