This has to do with the hole in the bottom of the bag Williams talked about in Paterson. Keep in mind that time in this context is a geology, not a monotonous ticking. It's an expression of landscape, how words roll around or crawl, or hop, or graze, like the animals on the cavern walls of Lascaux. Only this isn't a cave. This is a piece of paper.
Poetry is the crackling blaze in the cave.
A cube of vowels. A bucket of blobs of scraggly signification. A hole in the bag. A system of sounds to which images are attached, like walnuts. Last modified on 28 July 1999.