‘Well here again that don’t apply
But I’ve gotta use words when I talk to you.’ –
T.S. Eliot, Fragment of an Agon
It don’t apply, it don’t apply, the claims
You make, your doubtful calculation,
Are not the case. It don’t apply. I say
You are no good at ordering the names.
Your categories are leaking information.
It don’t apply, today or yesterday.
I know this, am convinced you are not right,
Having been the point at which it don’t apply.
But worse than hurt is the offence to fact
At seeing you maintain that day is night.
Slack practice in the weighing of a lie
Shows disrespect for anything exact.
The finer points escape you, don’t apply.
The principle’s the pinnacle that ends
In emptiness above it, stops us flat.
There is no higher as we cannot fly.
It don’t apply, I say as I descend.
What you call ‘this’ is still what I call ‘that’.