O.k. I'm Running Out Of

All That Matters Is That The Thing Be The Thing Of The Thing.

Of Rhythm Is Image / Of Image Is Knowing / Of Knowing There Is / A Construct

A Poem Is Energy Transferred From Where The Poet Got It (he Will Have Some Several Causations), By Way Of The Poem Itself To, All The Way Over To, The Reader.

The Poem, For Me, Is Simply The First Sound Realized In The Modality Of Being.

My Life Has Been Given Its Orders: The Seasons Seize The Soul And The Body, And Make Mock Of Any Dispersed Effort. The Hour Of Death Is The Only Trespass