Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2012 v11n1
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Irreducible is what I’m after,

            which is why I cannot mind so much observing

how words are more precise or less precise, but they

            are not exact.  Not ever.  No.  And yes, each proves

solicitous and pleasant on the tongue, and more

            than a little tolerant of one’s most earnest

yammering; still, the promise of each word abides

            within its endless, largely inarticulate

expanse.  The dancing figures of our utterance

            forever spin their circles; they forever turn

upon the sawdust-littered floor.  And even as

            we speak we see our good intentions leaping clean

beyond our reach.  And each for its duration lifts

            the stillness into trouble.  For its bright moment,

each obtains for us a little taste of what lit

            distance we would entertain, irreducible.


So, yes, more precise or less precise, but words

are not exact.    

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