4.11 / November 2009

Poem ending with a fragment from A Theory of Truth

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“Certain things can never be spoken.”   To demonstrate, my friend vowed to keep his big mouth shut for a year.   “Nothing said,” he said the day before he started keeping track.   Now he relies solely on gestures.   I pretend I don’t know what he means when he points toward the door.   “I don’t know what you mean” I say and he relaxes his arms.   We sit on the couch.   I think about Sisyphus and he watches Comedy Central.   We both laugh.   We both yawn during the slow parts.   If there’s one thing he’s taught me, it’s that any theory is intelligible only to someone who understands the language in which it is stated.


4.11 / November 2009

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