If A Poem Is Each Time New,

Where But In The Very Asshole Of Comedown Is Redemption: As Where But Brought Low, Where But In The Grief Of Failure, Loss, Error Do We Discern The Savage Afflictions That Turn Us Around: Where But In The Arrangements Love Crawls Us Through

For Though We Often Need To Be Restored To The Small, Concrete, Limited, And Certain, We As Often Need To Be Reminded Of The Large, Vague, Unlimited, Unknown

The Wonderful Workings Of The World: Wonderful, Wonderful: I'm Surprised Half The Time

Each Poem In Becoming Generates The Laws By Which It Is Generated: Extensions Of The Laws To Other Poems Never Completely Take.

I Must Stress Here The Point That I Appreciate Clarity, Order, Meaning, Structure, Rationality: They Are Necessary To Whatever Provisional Stability We Have, And They Can Be The Agents Of Gradual And Successful Change.