I am fascinated by where the claims of poets might carry the reader. Take for instance the following view from Don McKay, Griffin Poetry Prize nominee, as reported in The Toronto Star Jun 04, 2007
My view is that poetry is the point where language is humbled by the sense that it realizes that it isn’t able to adequately describe the world […] There’s something that eludes it. And so it’s language pointing beyond its own capacities.
A place beyond pointing. That is where the humility lies. Situated in the vicinity of pointing at its own powers to describe its own position in the world. Poetry bends where language waves break. The words unravel into sounds or glyphs. Order reshaped. And in the reshaping still ordered.
And so for day 174