selvage

Finally, a point of view about poetry and the self that makes sense to me.

The Self in Poetry: A GNAT (Grossly Non-Academic Talk) with a Weaving Metaphor
by Rachel Zucker

Quoting the ending here:

Because a poem is not an idea but has a body and this body is the self, let’s call it “selvage”.

The self in poetry, of poetry, is substance, subject and action. Content and action.

The self and the poem make each other real.

In a woven fabric, the selvage is the uncut edge that is on the right and left as it comes out of the loom. As such it will not fray because the weft threads double back on themselves, unfinished but structurally sound.

Exists.

The material world run through with the golden thread of self, the subject itself and witness itself doubled back is the made, finished/unfinished thing, everything else unravels or glistens like an emperor’s new clothes: idea only.

See also: Confessionalography: A GNAT (Grossly Non-Academic Talk) on “I” in Poetry, by Rachel Zucker