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.