What is? What are the words? Is there precise poetry?
Can anything but poetry be precise?
There is the world / universe / human / meaning
Language, atoms; sounds, images; feelers, antennae, utensils – existence holding out,
Pulsing and morphing, pushing and pulling to continually become
And there is wandering, probing, movement, the universe,
As it moves us around, moves around us, and we lose ourselves
As we emerge, again and again,
Creating the unknown with the known
Wrestling with matter, our body, world as it continually settles
And fragments with its own and our momentum
I / we have a human identity (and many others)
When we are folded as / in the world
Moving relentlessly
At (our) insistence