I really like your current MagicMolly. it reminded me of this.
what I thought about first, when I read both the MagicMolly and the Hass bit, was the huge discrepancy between word and meaning. words, as the poem says, are always elegy, always a reminder of the personal circumstance connoted, and as a result more complex and powerful than either a dictionary entry or a physical example (if possible) of the word itself. to me, the energy 'lost' in converting experience to language still exists in the detail of memory; the idea that "raspberry" suggests to me is multi-sensory, completely subjective, and constantly elaborated upon by experience in the real world.
I don't really know what that means, though.
I think a lot about the vastness of mental interiority, because it quanitifies, in a positive way, all the time and energy I put into theory. memory and conjecture offer something richer than life has shown me so far; in the same way that I could never imagine a world as beautifully articulated as that in Pale Fire, I associate language not with its inadequate representation of the real world but of its evocative relationship with the one inside my head.