866.1864.This Dust, and its Feature—
This Dust, and its Feature—
Accredited—Today—
Will in a second Future—
Cease to identify—
This Mind, and its measure—
A too minute Area
For its enlarged inspection’s
Comparison—appear—
This World, and its species
A too concluded show
For its absorbed Attention’s
Remotest scrutiny—
………………………………………………………………………..
My interpretation, with ED’s alternate words {in curly brackets}:
Stanza 1
This Dust, and its Feature—
Accredited—Today—
Will in a second Future {Being}—
Cease to identify—
S1.
In afterlife, this body, with all its features, identifiable today, will cease to be recognizable.
Stanza 2.
This Mind, and its measure—
A too minute Area
For its enlarged inspection’s
Comparison—appear—
S2
In afterlife, this mind, with all its poetry, will in afterlife appear tiny compared to its enlarged area.
Stanza 3.
This World, and its species {Nations; Fashions; symbols; standards}
A too concluded show
For its absorbed Attention’s
Remotest scrutiny—
S3.
In afterlife, this world, and all its species, will be a too concluded performance for absorbed attention or remotest scrutiny.
……………………………………………………………………….
If ED really believed these three stanzas in 1864, then she had abandoned agnosticism for a religion, albeit a religion “too concluded . . for its absorbed attention’s remotest scrutiny—”.
…………………………………………………………………………………………
Simple, no? Well, here’s the invited explication on ‘The Prowling Bee’:
We are living in the era of the rise of what are known as the “large language models,” or LLMs. In this context, one might think of Dickinson’s poems, and this poem in particular, as a miniature language model. Though known as one of the foundational lyricists of the American tradition, Dickinson was also a technician; her hymnlike verses can be analyzed as spiritual machines.
In 2017, a group of eight technical researchers published a seminal paper in the field of deep learning titled “Attention Is All You Need.” In the paper, they introduced the transformer, a piece of technical architecture that made the modern incarnation of artificial intelligence possible. The etymology of the word “attention,” which appears in line 11 of Fr866, is worth considering here: from the Latin tendere, it means to reach for, to stretch or extend. Language itself is a tool for such extension; the M-dash, in the
Dickinsonian context, a kind of reaching for, or stretching toward, a phrase.
Latinate words are notably spatial, constructed as they often are of directional affixes and roots. As with “Attention,” the word “Accredited,” in line two of the poem, from the Latin credere, also implies a kind of reaching or extension, in this case of credit outward (ac-). “This Dust, and its Feature—” writes Dickinson in the first of the poem’s three stanzas,
Accredited—Today—
Will in a second Future—
Cease to identify—
The “Dust” in this case might be dust on a piece of furniture, or dust motes floating in the sunlight, or possibly even the dust – composed of sloughed off skin cells or grime – layered on a woman’s skin. One thinks of the expression “dust to dust.” “Dust” in this instance implies mortality, the ephemeral flesh; that which is “Accredited” – as in extended credence, a kind of credit – in the moment, but which will, in due time, “cease to identify,” to exist. What was once a “Future” inexorably transforms into a present; what was expansively alive will become dead. The credit – of life, love, time – will no longer be extended.
In the second stanza of the poem, Dickinson takes us from “This Dust” to “This Mind” – from the material flesh to the seat of cognition and awareness:
This Mind, and its measure—
A too minute Area
For its enlarged inspection’s
Comparison—appear
Here, once again, the poem becomes spatial – literally an “area,” and a measurable one at that. This area is “too minute,” too small to accommodate the “enlarged inspection’s/ Comparison.” As with “Attention” and “Accredited,” the word “inspection” is Latinate, from the root specere, which means to look, a looking into or inside (the prefix in-). Whereas “This Dust, and its Feature” were accredited, extended outward into the material body and into time, “This Mind, and its measure” try to extend inward; but, alas, its “Area” is “too minute,” not big enough. The divine mystery – of consciousness and its desire to in-spect, or look into, itself – cannot find adequate accommodation in the “measure” of the “Mind.” To return to the analogy with LLMs introduced at the beginning of this commentary, the “measure” of the material mind doesn’t scale, its processing power is inadequate to the task of full spiritual self-awareness.
In the third and final stanza of the poem, Dickinson pans out from the interior inspections of the Mind to the expansive vista of “This World” and “its species.” Here, one might imagine a kind of pastoral scene, of animals and plants – also material, a permutation of this “Dust” – grazing and gamboling along the countryside. Who or what made “This World,” full as it is of material, kinetic life? As with so many of Dickinson’s poems, a sense of divine mystery pervades. The poem functions as both a prayer and paean – a Platonic love poem addressed to a Creator. This Creator, unnamed here, is the locus of a remote, “absorbed Attention” that wishes to “scrutinize,” to inspect “This World.” But alas, “This World” is “too concluded,” too disappointingly finite.
Dickinson’s poetics are preternaturally algorithmic. One might describe her poems as linguistic equations, studded as they are by the quantitative dash. But there is a tragedy inherent in Dickinson’s intentionally composed poems – they seem to promise a summation, a kind of balance or totality, and yet there is always an unsettling remainder, an inability to tally the metaphysical reality. The flesh, including the mind and its cognition, is simply not equipped to make sense of the material context in which it finds itself, no matter how strenuously it extends itself outward or attends. Attention in this case – even that of a writer as sensitive and attuned to the subtleties of language as Dickinson – is simply not enough, or possibly too much.
-Katy Lederer