A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-And-Fifty-Nine

I have been thinking about how I can discuss certain aspects of my poetry and the choices I make as a writer.  In particular, I tend to write without as much reliance on sensory details and descriptions, instead choosing more abstract depictions.  This is something that I know many writers would call an odd choice, as specificity seems inherently to demand the application of detail, but I tend to be a bit hesitant about relying on depictions that utilize the senses, as I find that approach somewhat problematic.  For one thing, sensory description is always going to be less than universal, and not only because of the reality that there are individuals who lack one or more sense.  In many ways, for me, the deeper problem is one related to language itself.  Our use of language creates our experiences in a very real way, though I can't necessarily offer a full explanation of what I mean by that right here, but using a word for an object bestows qualities on it.  If I call something a stool you will sit on it, but if I pointed at the same object and called it a table, you would use it in an entirely different way.  Beyond that, you would think of it in your mind in a different way.  The object does not change, but your understanding of it does, one might even say that the word bestows an identity on the object which you accept and which guides your interactions with it.  When that word changes, the object becomes something different to you.  Consider, as well, that the experience of thought that we have as people who utilize language is one that could not exist without that capacity.  Our minds are artifacts of language.  In that sense, the words we use to describe the world are external to language, are it reaching towards an objective reality it cannot touch, but when language is utilized to reference internal reality and the landscape of the mind itself, the words are not reaching beyond the domain of what they can actually achieve.