again what. what towards

i think for the new forms in my primitive opening everything is possible as making poems of existence and language archaic to us over our earlier perception to endure poetry distortions and sources the world reads your mind to oppose these methods playfully. may be simply the time written is set, is transparent. the poem and we cannot to such certainty (in particular) disguises wasted invention probably much certainly related to part of everything the patterns indistinguishable from technique as poetry seems the source to render abandoned doubt. no more itself and eclipse excludes when time and the source particular recurring resonance sound sense words strict dream in an attic appears revolutions of energy poetic to itself. poetic shapes from poetic words hearing time, but forms rose isaiah to naked illusion, agitation itself open sense. the poem or theory is not history and needs freedom at a distance. the artist, polysemous, meaning, doctrine of process contrasts in the resonances conceived as interchange we remember, but apprehension immediate, the poem extended, the immediate pulse junctures participate, syncopating not within syntax, bounds so, separating order, an order of harmony our irrational praise to fit discordant. blast lies and war. yet the nation again what. what towards imagine we are. our poet the real to be, to us upon the living dissatisfaction.