Wow. this is a theme or something isn’t it? this was cut-up and retyped and facaded with my own world from a Hopkins sonnet
is there room in the room that you roomed in?
the architecture dances
weave incidents among the potatoes
to him, we use, we are
the sleeping fragments; his wind
gives presence to the sky.
and why is the human not a
machine? bound to its habits
conceptions, definitions, abstractions?
we inhabit nches to function and
our own forum follows its function
form follows our action
intuition, leap-of-faith is, then,