that poem worse
now I cannot take out that part
the things put in to pull off-course
are too true not to leave.
Even though art
must be uglier, less successful,
failing by degrees to unite and
cohere, from such inclusions
too mindful, not thoughtless
enough, heedless that instinct
in this case knows better, drop-kick
the gut which knows, punch intuition
in the tits and wrench sense and taste
out of whack
derail small craft
foundering now in too-high crest
and tool-low trough
of fact.
Such crafts, alas
were not made to run
on track
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