words

The dictionary definition of “word” is quite a lengthy one, which is no wonder. How is it possible to describe a word in a single, fragmented, dogmatic definition? I think of the millions of books in the world—books in all languages—and how many words are within them. So many of the words are the same but syntactically unique. How differently Emily Dickinson and Nikita Gill write about love, life, and death. The words they use are the same. What changes? The order, manner, and tone with which they are used.

I have always had an affinity for words, a fetish of sorts. I write on index cards words with aural pleasantry, taping them to my wall. I wanted the Oxford English Dictionary for my high school graduation. I write word definitions in my marginalia and annotations. I love words, but I am also skeptical of them.

Words can be used improperly. There is always a better word that better suits the situation. Sometimes silence is what hurts. What words possibly fit? Sometimes we say too much, too little, too fast, too loud, too soft, too often, too infrequently.

I attempted to capture the ambiguity of words in my poem below. I titled it “Useless Advice.” I hope you understand why the advice given is so useless. The format reflects the rigidness of words (equal syllables in lines 1 and lines 2 of each stanza), their unsurety (blank verse), and their defiance (third line in the last stanza).

Useless Advice
 Katherine Humes
  
 Amorphous sound, a cacophony of pitch; articulation absent
 —unformed by the mouth, meaningless noises.
  
 Thought: unspoken unheard, unannounced, but understood. Constitution of
 alphabet, utterance, and thought: language.
  
 Mnemosyne, the mother of the Monologue: phenomenon the result
 of polyphonic consciousness and play.
  
 Misinterpreted, misunderstood, misused, mistook—fueling a
 vernacular fistfight, fire of vice.
  
 Sensual sentimentality: lip service—do we prefer silence?
 Palpable emotion in tiny, tortured
             words.