I liked this by Stephen Vincent. it works as palliative to the wrongheaded approach Ron Silliman takes with the Weinberger piece. Silliman's so engrossed in matters of definition that he slides past whether the piece says/does/means anything. EW's piece is consistent with his oeuvre, direct, empassioned, caustic. Silliman's thinking is unnecessarily fuzzy, overthinking for the sake of overthinking. Silliman's blog is not so different from EW's piece. it's a pushing forward of integrity, let us say. not to say anyone can be consistent in that way, integrity is a goal not a stopping point. in discussing Weinberger's piece, Silliman hits a stopping point, the boundary he created. Silliman's questions of form, his push to define, perform acts of enclosure and limitation. Stephen Vincent's piece admits to emotion, admits to variety, admits to question. Silliman formalizes himself into a hole with his approach to Weinberger's piece. maybe Ron needs some narrative in his veins, as a sense of attachment. I mean, I presume Ron still reads from left to right, with new mystery and meaning with each word. like when he says the Paris Review seeks someone to fulfill Plimpton's shoes.