In the face of vertiginous green borrowed from the eye of the precious twin ("we're switching memories" as a matter of fact) in the costly sincere triangulous plaza alive, incommensurate kimidori, shinryoku, pattern wild & alive even in our bodies around this table, this weave of discourse genial and unakin against stultifying digits, discussing the stakes of craft's disappearance around grapefruits picked from out back at Janet's & broiled caramelized, & then, for continuity, an essay from Alan's PO Box in NY, poems from A. Kunin in LA, arriving terrifically delayed, email from Nathanaël, from the sculptor, Eastward, etc., instantaneous, aswirl: immense gratitude against any & all countervailing of 2010, awe of its rotations of trial and numbed sublimity, with every detail too much of its own illustriousness to impale or marshal by trident (as in hallucination of mud/sky/ceiling), so all in simultaneity within the soundtrack of violin-in-cryptoporticus, hunger and window-thunder ever more insistent across the bass garden, sirens gearing up, broken crockery and refrigerators anticipated in defenestration against street-lava as geometry of a strictly human scale, the vie pointing in many directions out, beatifically out of focus.