He always deliberately had second thoughts
Whether say to name the card game he had invented pier or blust

His strategy had always been that of error suppression
A fictive simulacrum of facility of aspiration not achievement
Hence the nullity of the final draft

He wanted to speak from the other side of the grave
The other side of the ashes really

He wanted the sublime capaciousness
Of artifice uncontaminated by physical substance
A radical distillation somehow of Os and Cs

To land neatly squarely between
The products of conception and the products of combustion

To erase the fruits of experience
To dispel all heaviness
As the seeing the reaching the grasping

He wanted to make one of those boxes those precious displays
The elegant t-shirt the ancient luxurious postcard the special spoon