the book machine as body

as the body is disorganized with death, the dismembering of the poet is plain enough to see, sense. one two three, you're dead. as the doornail which killed Oedipus, or the sister of Orpheus, who's been forgotten, and not all the scholars in the world'l find her works. I brought this out in the paper you wrote about Hart Crane, the atavistic poet of the 1920's.

A nice phrase of Wilde whose grandson tells us 'confessed he lived in permanent fear of not being misunderstood.' A welcome relief to them that fear being misunderstood.

other places we carry the flag of sincerity _ how boring.
Yes, dear Aunt I was caned and whipped till I understood this.

Later reading becomes a pain . as it takes away the time
the time, always the time to write. Between the writing.

One does.