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Six Poems with One Title

Six Poems with One Title ROBERT BRINGHURST language poem (1) The heron has practised his silence longer than time has been time. When he rises and speaks, there is no one in the cove who doesn’t listen, there is no one in the cove who couldn’t translate what he says, and no one in the cove who wouldn’t realize the heron had been lost in that translation. Everything speaks for itself in this world, and everything rests in what is unspoken. Hairy woodpecker too, mystified, miffed, or exasperated or pleased, utters his one word and jumps or hunkers down and squeezes hard: hanging on for dear life to what is, or swimming right through it as if it were there. And it is. And it is. How many more words would it take to make up a language? Does language actually have to have words? What it must have are meanings—and some way of saying, These and not those are the meanings that stand here uncovered—or covered. The meanings a language must have are the meanings it lacks: located outside it, like sunlight and grass. So together with meaning there has to be pointing at meaning. A language, in other words, has to have http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Manoa University of Hawai'I Press

Six Poems with One Title

Manoa , Volume 25 (1) – Jul 10, 2013

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2008 University of Hawai'i Press.
ISSN
1527-943x

Abstract

ROBERT BRINGHURST language poem (1) The heron has practised his silence longer than time has been time. When he rises and speaks, there is no one in the cove who doesn’t listen, there is no one in the cove who couldn’t translate what he says, and no one in the cove who wouldn’t realize the heron had been lost in that translation. Everything speaks for itself in this world, and everything rests in what is unspoken. Hairy woodpecker too, mystified, miffed, or exasperated or pleased, utters his one word and jumps or hunkers down and squeezes hard: hanging on for dear life to what is, or swimming right through it as if it were there. And it is. And it is. How many more words would it take to make up a language? Does language actually have to have words? What it must have are meanings—and some way of saying, These and not those are the meanings that stand here uncovered—or covered. The meanings a language must have are the meanings it lacks: located outside it, like sunlight and grass. So together with meaning there has to be pointing at meaning. A language, in other words, has to have

Journal

ManoaUniversity of Hawai'I Press

Published: Jul 10, 2013

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