“The problem is that even the best metaphysical poem can’t escape the fact that it doesn’t need the image.  They are all the same in the eyes of that philosophic poet as he abuses the experiences of my life.”

By the steam with which you might say forcing.

Every urge is terrifying; to paraphrase and project

from the beginning to the end of history;

vectored narrative, tempting teleology;

morality pinned aesthetically

in the free play of imagination  and understanding.

The ‘good’ now frustrates conceptually,

no expectation for resolution:

a whirlpool before the absolute city.

By ‘steam’ I meant the impotent spit of motivation.