“ellipsis(n.) 1560s, “an ellipse” in geometry, from Latin ellipsis, from Greek elleipsis “a falling short, defect, ellipse in grammar,” noun of action from elleipein “to fall short, leave out,” from en- “in” (see en- (1)) + leipein “to leave” (reconstructed to be from PIE root *leikw- “to leave”). The grammatical and rhetorical sense in English is attested by 1610s: “a figure of syntax in which a part of a sentence or phrase is used for the whole, by the omission of one or more words, leaving the full form to be understood or completed by the reader or hearer.” Earlier, in prosody, ellipsis was used of any word or term omitted but understood (1580s).”

The entry is from Etymology Online and describes, metaphorically, how I’ve been feeling lately. A bit absented from the world, full of gaps instead of (alas, that term) “content.” Missing the details, falling short, leaving out–not the same as feeling left out. I do not usually feel “writer’s block,” but…

maybe that’s what this is.

~

I’ve been thinking about a dear friend who often punctuated his letters to me with ellipses. He’d leave those three dots on the page to let me know he was thinking about more than he’d put on the paper, or that his mind was heading a direction he didn’t care to go just then, or to let me know he’d paused there and the next paragraph was likely to have been written later in the day, or on another day. An ellipsis could mean interruption, or it could indicate unfinished business. I would have to interpret.

I recall one letter that contained more ellipses than words. It was like a concrete poem, an irregular pattern of dots on the page.

Merriam-Webster says, of elliptical, a: of, relating to, or marked by ellipsis or an ellipsis; b(1): of, relating to, or marked by extreme economy of speech or writing; b(2): of or relating to deliberate obscurity (as of literary or conversational style).

I think in the case of his elliptical letter, the correct definition would be b(2). There are times people want to make connections with others or let us know they’re thinking of us, but they can’t quite make the full meaning clear, or don’t want to burden a friend with their problems, or feel they’ve nothing interesting to say. Or perhaps they deliberately obscure the reason for writing because of, who knows? Fear? Embarrassment? Pain?

But the desire to reach someone was there…

~

I want to get back to writing poems. But right now I have a few intellectual and emotional rifts that apparently I need to mend, as well as having another gallon of tomato sauce to make. My thinking is full of lacunae. Fragmentary. Not the best words in the best order, thank you Samuel Taylor Coleridge. More like the disturbed syntactical phrases my mother-in-law and my mother produced during their aphasia. Although there might be intriguing possibilities in such elliptical language that I may eventually stitch together.