Were All Moving, Moving, Moving.

What Can We Do When Even The Public Conveyances Sing? How Can We Go Anywhere, Even Cross-town How Get Out Of Anywhere

An American Is A Complex Of Occasions, Themselves A Geometry Of Spatial Nature.

Whatever You Have To Say, Leave The Roots On, Let Them Dangle And The Dirt Just To Make Clear Where They Come From.

O.k. I'm Running Out Of Appetite. Let This Swirl- A Bit Like Crab Nebula- Do For Now.

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