I am a technical writer. My job actually includes many more duties and responsibilities, but they seem somewhat ancillary to the fact that I spend most of my days sitting at a computer and...writing. What am I writing? Test protocols. Design specifications. Legalese for engineers. Where is the poetry in this? Even the words sound droll. Say it with me: "Design Specifications." It sounds awful. These words are neither woody nor tinny, they are simply... cold. There are times when I feel their chill so deeply that I lash out, clutching for some creative outlet, grasping at anything to keep the spark from becoming hypothermic. But there IS poetry in technical writing--some of it extraordinary and grand. The trouble lies with scale. If we were motes for whom millimeters seemed like miles, would we view the Mona Lisa as a masterpiece? Or would we see merely a randomly but gradually changing landscape with no especial meaning or charm? A good technical writer knows that the writing is part and parcel to a masterpiece so intricate and complex that no single person could produce it, and in this way it not only allows, but demands poetry, and bold statements, and exploration.