There Is No Word A Poem by Tony Hoagland www.poetryfoundation.org what I already am thinking about is my gratitude for language— how it will stretch just so much and no farther; how there are some holes it will not cover up; how it will move, if not inside, then around the circumference of almost anything— how, over the years, it has given me back all the hours and days, all the plodding love and faith, all the misunderstandings and secrets I have willingly poured into it. languagewords
The complexity and the gray One thing I assume of age is weariness. Damned if I don’t get more tired every day. Tired of what I do, following arcs like lobbed rocks — the inevitability of truth. But the complexity and the gray lie not in the truth, but in what you do with the truth once you have it. truthlifeagedecisions