“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane knows which poem. She calls it The Fence. She wrote it in May 1963. She began the book on idea construction with an obvious burst of intuition on Sept. 9/63, after having a vivid dream about it the night before. She made notes on the dream.

The Fence

Through a crisscrossed fence

And each ounce of flesh is a fence,

[...] my experiences put me outside the pale; on the other side of the fence from, say, the academic circles that I’d so respected; that my experience with other people was going to be vastly different; I thought I was looking for truth, but I’d be one of those under suspicion because of the kind of person into which I’d developed.... [...]

post or fence?

(In back of me, to my left and on the other side of the fence, was some kind of long dark building. The fence was also quite long. [...]

(Beyond my figure I saw the typical blue-green opaque water of the tiled swimming pool, and some shining pipe work, evidently a fence or ladder. [...]

[...] I was leaning against the endpipe, or post, of a modern, steel meshwork type of fence that reached rather high above me—several feet in fact. [...]

The wind on the arm blows the hair,
And at the base, a golden mole,
Such a speck as a peach might have,
But the hair arches back to show a gaping hole,
And each ounce of flesh is a fence,
Erected roundly and snug
About hidden landscapes, suns, and shadows,
Inroads laced with prickly shrubs.
Peer through. The holes are not big enough to see much,
But dreams travel wondrous wires.
Fires brighter than autumn moons
Throw leaping shadows on the arm.
Days and nights burn like stars
In the twinkling meadows of the skull,
And through the fence of peach-blooming flesh,
Other fruits blossom, beyond reach.

Though this criss-crossed fleshmesh
Tastes like peach and feels like peach fuzz,
All utterly mergings of gold and green and red,
Sunnily rendered, dizzy and delicious,
Still, touching it with eyes is like peering
Through a fence
With wires cunningly connected,
A million to an inch.

(“A fence or framework connection with the item.” [...] A fence can also enter in, in a more literal way: The Arnot Art Gallery, where Caroline Keck, the author of the object worked, is surrounded by a black iron fence.

[...] A fence or framework connection with the item. [...]

[...] In plain view in the photo are picket fences to the right and left of Maxine and Del, plus two large curving trellises bare of flowers or greenery. [...]

[...] The uprights in the two picket fences.

[...] Apparently the picket fence, seen in two places on the photo—to their right and in back of Del and Maxine, and their left foreground. [...]

[...] You have been on both sides of the fence. [...] Now you are on one side of the fence, in your terms, but you have been on the other sides.”

A private estate that catches their eye, with an iron fence about it or gate, with a gate.

[...] On Thursday and Friday, May 1 & 2, surveyors were at work on the property, laying out the dimensions for a proposed parking lot that would run from W. Water St, in front of the house, to the back fence of the property, some hundred feet.)

[...] She had no idea that much of the yard on the side of the house, from the street to the far back fence, had been earmarked by our landlord for sale to Dr Levine for a parking lot.

[...] of NY, in which they stated that they liked her book of poetry, The Fence, very much, but could not publish it due to their restricted list of poetry, having abandoned for the time being their projected series of paperback poetry books. The fact that Macmillan stated they thought another publisher would take on The Fence, had not, I thought, particularly cheered Jane, at least at the moment.

Your beliefs can be like fences that surround you.

You must first recognize the existence of such barriers — you must see them or you will not even realize that you are not free, simply because you will not see beyond the fences. [...]

Ruburt has the impression of the school fence across the street from the house in which he lived, and he is thinking of a particular photograph of his own that involved his house, the street, part of the fence, and perhaps some children. [...]

He tries at times to use a schedule, a disciplined schedule as a fence against the subconscious, and becomes panic-stricken imagining himself without it. [...]

[...] The ideals of which you speak are your protection, built-in survival mechanisms that warn of danger, invisible fences like psychic signs saying beware.

[...] Do not your ideas already leap over the fences and the fields? [...]

[...] Do not your ideas already leap over the fences and the fields? [...]

A private estate that catches their eye, with an iron fence about it, or gate—and a gate. [...]

[...] There will be a general overall organization in any case in our material, but let us not treat subject matter like a fence, with everything put into neat categories. [...]

[...] Perhaps a fence and a large room divided into two. [...]