V.
This entry is an annex and continuation of the last. It talks about the motif of Shipping Forecast.
VI.
This entry documents the process of establishing Poetic.cargo.site’s presence in the Physical World.
This consists of the CONCRETE︎︎︎ corner of the triangulation.
Rain. Breeze. Drizzle.
Scattered clouds.
Sun.
Calm.
Rising barometer.
The anatomy of poetry calls the incantation/imagery ![]()
motif. Threaded together by language structures (be it phonesthetics, rhythms, rhetorics, or parallelisms, or etc.) to form what we see as poems. In a classical sense, poems cease to exist upon motifs. When the texts disintegrate through whatever means, the motif remains standing, among which poem exists in a ![]()
This is, as I belief, ![]()
![]()
This process also works in the other way round – when motifs disintegrate, leaving the formation/format/structure standing, poetry can also be represented, be made to exist. Just like straight lines and circles on cartographer’s sheet also conveys the constellation.
![]()
Moreover, the space left by disappearing poetic components is the womb of concrete poetry. In Ian Hamilton Finlay’s garden, the elements constantly write a thousand inaudible anthems and a million invisible lines, to fill the quiet void around the single![]()
carved in the limestone stele.
As the Poetic Practice goes, I am starting to notice the pattern formed by my choice of motif. I land on![]()
overwhelmingly often – which makes sense, because I strive to let my words occur, not fabricated.
I thus carved the concrete poem, not in limestone but in a line of javascript code, and let the flurry of invisible words bloom around it.
Along with weather, commonly used motifs include solar activity forecast︎︎︎, solar/lunar eclipses︎︎︎, solstice/equinoctial data︎︎︎, and meteor shower data︎︎︎. With data stringing up coordinates, the true, inconceivably large scale of the physical environment we are being subjected to starting to take shape. Their events rage through the sky above us,![]()
The other facet of these motifs, is the audience would be capable of very little impact on them. The futility is almost comforting and reassuring, in an age of epidemical decision fatigue and information overload.
When sitting back and quietly observe being the only option for most individuals, spaces open up for poetry and a poetic experience. I can’t possibly bring myself to comprehend the nightmarish scenario of a weather system, a planet’s orbit, a sky colour becomes assets and commodities, possible to command and amend at a human’s whim. ︎
conjured
free-flowing state.
Concrete Poetry.
Imagine a constellation in the sky, but when the lines connecting every star to depict gods, chariots and giant beasts fade, the constellation is still there.
This process also works in the other way round – when motifs disintegrate, leaving the formation/format/structure standing, poetry can also be represented, be made to exist. Just like straight lines and circles on cartographer’s sheet also conveys the constellation.
Moreover, the space left by disappearing poetic components is the womb of concrete poetry. In Ian Hamilton Finlay’s garden, the elements constantly write a thousand inaudible anthems and a million invisible lines, to fill the quiet void around the single
Schweigen,
As the Poetic Practice goes, I am starting to notice the pattern formed by my choice of motif. I land on
Weather
I thus carved the concrete poem, not in limestone but in a line of javascript code, and let the flurry of invisible words bloom around it.
Along with weather, commonly used motifs include solar activity forecast︎︎︎, solar/lunar eclipses︎︎︎, solstice/equinoctial data︎︎︎, and meteor shower data︎︎︎. With data stringing up coordinates, the true, inconceivably large scale of the physical environment we are being subjected to starting to take shape. Their events rage through the sky above us,
too large, too vigorous to even touch us.
The common nature of these information are occurring and self-generating, yet consistent, where parallels with Coding can be drawn.
The other facet of these motifs, is the audience would be capable of very little impact on them. The futility is almost comforting and reassuring, in an age of epidemical decision fatigue and information overload.
When sitting back and quietly observe being the only option for most individuals, spaces open up for poetry and a poetic experience. I can’t possibly bring myself to comprehend the nightmarish scenario of a weather system, a planet’s orbit, a sky colour becomes assets and commodities, possible to command and amend at a human’s whim. ︎