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Disaster at Elizabeth Bishop's One Art Art isn't life. More, it's a deception, mirroring emotion and experience, but never truly becoming that which it reflects. Art is attractive in that it's a controlled balance between stiff structure, which will be too dull for its purposes, and chaotic discord, which is too feral. Poetry is art. Loss isn't. Inside her villanelle "One Art," Elizabeth Bishop proves this to be so. The poem itself is still an emotive crescendo, and while its own speaker struggles to hold the pain of decline within the boundaries of art, its readers note the incongruity of this kind of attempt. 1 word pushes them, and fuels Bishop's crescendo with a momentum, a tone, and a coda; "disaster" impels the poem "One Art." Fittingly, the crescendo begins gently. The poem's opening stanza supposes a rather impassive tonethat divides in the speaker's feigned indifference toward the prospect of losing. Though the immediate struggle between Bishop's title and its implication briefly upsets the brain from a logical standpoint, the speaker's hasty assurance that reduction is "no disaster" appear...