I had a few faculty members during my time in college that insisted that we memorize poetry; I rebelled. . . even though I did understand what they were getting at. Now that we’re thrown text at us from so many angles and directions, I think I understand even better what the value of this work might be. . . In some ways, it returns us to Hank Lazer trying to get us to breath together and self-consciously. What can we do to force ourselves to become self-aware of the beauty and possibilities associated with language? Maybe even self-aware of the beauty of our own language use?