That I have had before —
But did not finish — some way back —
I could not fix the Year —"
Emily Dickinson begins that way to talk about the inner landscape of her mind. The poem, which goes on for another two stanzas, seems mainly to describe a subtle, surprising sensation of an unknown but strangely familiar sequence of synapse firings. The entire poem is internal, mental, emotional. It includes no description or narration of any external stimulus offered as trigger or result.
So while we're inside Emily's mind, we look around and notice an interesting thing: her mind has an "up." The word flits by so quickly, one might miss it looking for an explanation as to what the "Thought" comprises. But the poem never offers specifics about that. Instead, the upness of the mind catches the attention. It is intriguing, definite and curious.
What does your internal landscape look like? What is inside your emotional/intellectual body?
This week, go in with your camera of words and take some snapshots that show what it's like in the space where your thoughts appear, move, vanish, and recur.
keywords: interior, poem, your name
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