[Part of: Poetica Philosophica.]
These desert landscapes draw my eye. The way we fought still crowds my mind. I’m baffled by your rage at my Distinctions, tightly-drawn and well-defined. Ontology’s a serious game. You’d joined my colleagues to accuse Me of rejecting: light cream, flame broiled burgers, swimming pools, and blue suede shoes. But I protest. I’ll not confuse the thing With the idea of the thing. And I reserve the right to curse Your overpopulated universe. Simplicity remains the key. I’m no conceptual acrobat Who postulates as if it’s free; My convenient myths are only that. Professor Wyman, now gray-haired, Inquired about you. I just smiled. And how’s the prickly-pear we shared? Do you remember when we picked it wild? The cabin here is poorly-lit. In empty doorways filled with shade Possible futures dance and flit. There are so many. When I look, they fade.
After “On What There Is” by W. V. Quine, in From a Logical Point of View, 1953.
Every SEP article should be like this.
except for the one in "gray-haired," every hyphen here is incorrect