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Although mental imagery is a unique experience, there are patterns that can tell us about how the mind works–for instance, some people think in objects, while others think more in terms of spatial relationships.

Mysteriously, this little article thingy does not have a byline. The initials P.P.P. appear at the end, but…I don’t really know who that is. Since I’m home, I have the pleasure of knocking over giant stacks of Emory Magazine that my parents collect in my room all year round, so this time I actually opened one of them. I read this piece because one of my former professors is in it, and she’s RAD. Then I felt vindicated about being stubborn about my point of view on my writing, my perception of the way I want my words to work. My poems are full of prepositions because I think in terms of spatial relationships. I’m not saying that we should all write this way, or that one method of writing is inherently better or worse than another, but isn’t there room for something a little different than what you’re used to? Can we address a poem on its own terms? Can we allow a poem, instead of setting a scene or idea in front of us, to situate us in a space and ask us to experience it? I just don’t understand why not. As this pony likes to say:

In workshop today a friend asked me about the way I format my poems, why they are so horizontally  spaced out, and I talked a little bit about my interest in the page–not so much changing the page space, but working within the page space, acknowledging and using its presence. Then as I was walking home in the gross post-thunderstorm humidity I kept thinking about this question. I thought about dance, about which side of the floor is the right and which side is the left, the movement on the diagonal, towards and/or away from the back/front. The discus circle, the kicking of the toe board and the marking of paces from the front of the circle to the back, the illusion of a boundary you can’t cross. The riding ring divided into sectors and halves and circles and figure eights and teardrops, all that you must imagine. And I realized that what I’ve been doing, unconsciously, is not just acknowledging the page, but feeling out its boundaries. I’ve been ECHOLOCATING.

I don’t really know what to do with this, but I’m interested in it. Also, both of the projects I have in mind for my thesis involve space and self-orienting, so now that makes a lot more sense. This also explains why I’m drawn to writing in prose, to working at the margins. In a roundabout way, I guess this is actually more house writing, except the page itself has become the interior space.

Is this the moment of change? The fever-break to my writing slump? Can it be, please please please?

I mostly have just been wanting to use that GIF for a long time. That’s how I feel about a lot of things. Particularly humidity.