ABSTRACT

This chapter suggests that the microcosmic dimension of Emily Dickinson’s dashes can function as a present mark for the absent bud of the bud—or rather, the verb of the verb—driving the poiesis of form. It suggest that the “Something else” Sylvia Plath holds onto is the unleashed energy of an elemental syllable with all of its protean kinesis and velocities. As Dickinson unmoors the conventions surrounding the dash finding innumerable possibilities for the dash’s material-semiotics, its “meaning” is never static. The chapter also suggest that the “Something else” Plath holds onto is the unleashed energy of an elemental syllable with all of its protean kinesis and velocities. Concerning Dickinson, one can likewise find arguments that postulate she suffered from seasonal depression disorder or that she lived with chronic migraines, both of which seem quite plausible along with her documented eye challenges.