Status Updates From Passing through a Gate: Poe...

"Oh, the hunger for words pure as clear water
that shall slake the pain of or parched tongues
and, splashed against our brows, shall let us see.
In such a moment locusts reinstruct our rapture.
Cold and mute, we are led up from the dark worlds
into a sunstruck glade loud with rilling water.
At the song's start, the raw tongue stammers out
an urge toward paradise, a version of ease."

"Without precision in the way we communicate with ourselves, with one another as a society, and with the world beyond, our private and public affairs falter and fall apart. ...such precision brings to its practitioners and to their societies a more enriched sense of self and an inevitable moral expansion."