which is still dark, the great fish underwater breathe, ing time but w/the poem still largely unwritten really the metaphors not properly in place not properly the property of the poem red riddims intervene/ing w/too many other intertwining doubts too many clumping cloud too too much
lovevine still entangling the soar and soil of my confession to the muse too many fault-lines marking where I sorrow craft & hurting heart and diligence of art the poem "finish" but not yet complete-- is yr compassion helping me to see it.