Here's a street fair in summer,
White and blue canvas kiosks
Under an after-rain sun,
Homemade goods, organic foods
From local farming co-ops,
Amplified drumming thumping
Under Canadian flags.
The evening's too beguiling
For rhetoric to save me.
I'm not the sort to name names
As if naming could conjure
The irreducible world.
When I'm done naming something
There's only the name to see--
Hemp, bouquets, dreadlocks, tattoos,
Strollers, chinos, wet pavement--
Which details are important
Enough to suggest the heft
Of everything not mentioned,
Which details earn forgiveness
For painting nothing but names?
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