Forgive me if I sleep until I wake up.
I'm trying to climb up both walls at once.
O.K. I'm running out of appetite. Let this swirl- a bit like Crab Nebula- do for now.
I sound like Homer. I mean Winslow Homer.
I defer to all these other American poets who, for some reason, I both envy and admire.
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.