Similar to idolatry and iconodulism, epeolatry literally means the worship of words. It derives from ἔπος épos, which unlike λόγος lógos more specifically means word in Greek, and was apparently coined in 1860 by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.
Let’s be clear here, we’re writers–well, a lot of us are writers–and we spend an inordinate amount of time searching for that elusive PERFECT word. He said. Said? We can do better than “said.” He screamed, he cried, he wailed, he whispered, he faltered … his voice caught….
It’s sterile ink we intend to use to catch a reader and hold him or her fast, entranced, mesmerized. One of my favorite passages is from The Wind in The Willows:
In poetry, enjambment or enjambement, is the breaking of a syntactic unit (a phrase, clause, or sentence) by the end of a line or between two verses. It is to be contrasted with end-stopping, where each linguistic unit corresponds with a single line, and caesura, in which the linguistic unit ends mid-line. The term is directly borrowed from the French enjambement, meaning “straddling” or “bestriding”. Enjambment is sometimes referred to as a “run-on line.”
Humble supplicant, I bow before this flickering altar
Hemorrhaging moment and emotion, fingers caress pitiless
Plastic, wringing prayer from QWERTY as I, slave to
Unseen intonations, transcribe the banter of the universe.
No one seems aware that “word” is a four-letter vow
Prying me from human solace and compelling its adherent
Write! The hour fading, time is not so boundless, and my fickle muse
Grows restless—no longer stalking, but wandering, trailing the nectar
I desire beyond all other seeking.
What Earthly joy compares to the novelty
Of a primordial word revived? Like a mislaid
Lover to be inveigled and cajoled, flattered and coaxed;
Come, most dearest, coil your form from my pen,
Bleed blissfully caught within my ink.