All that matters is that the thing be the thing of the thing.
I'm one of the cliches that has grown up.
Fact is based upon vulgar matter.
The poem, for me, is simply the first sound realized in the modality of being.
You can do anything, really. And that, l think, is one of the exciting possibilities of the present, l swear, is the possibility that the goddamn thing can be modaled throughout.
O.K. I'm running out of appetite. Let this swirl- a bit like Crab Nebula- do for now.