Deleting and salvaging a poem; on having rosy fingers; the danger of description.

Accessibility, expressiveness, vanity, and George Herbert. Somewhat in that order.

Starting writing from a blank page (and the dangers of doing so). Features a partial poem, read (and then deleted) with an eye towards why it was kept and why it’s being let go.

Wherein our host struggles to do what he has set out to do, offers a kind of apology to/pro Ginsberg, and ponders self-concussion as a means of expiation for creative sin.

Destroy a poem? Check. Digress about Ginsberg and the duty of an artist to their art? Oh, my, yes; double-check.