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
Sonorisms I the authenticity of the gesture as if the air had taken on substance representation and re-presentation a first order of presence this painterly game of pick-up sticks Irwin's "fetish finish" questions all of whose possible answers would never exhaust them the art is what has happened to the viewer an art of things not looked at a dialogue of immanence the information that takes place between things your house is the last before the infinite his "project of general peripatetic availability" that shiver of perception perceiving itself a desert of pure feeling Lawrence Wechler & Robert Irwin, Seeing Is Forgetting the Name of the Thing One Sees PhonaestheticsArchitectural dark matter wordseuphony