Yes or no to tokens, symbols and their prototypes. Yes or no signs. Yes or no to feuds, grim ball-bearings. Forget but never forget protestant vulnerability. And yes or no rodent names, tufted scopes. No yet also yes to poems living a life as a masterpiece, addressing a doormat standing an inch off the casing, a fourth-up past the itch out of everywhere but nowhere, nothing or all. Yes or no tempo of glyphic turmoil grounded into dotage and torpid incision in not one vowel or all of them — yes or no prophase for pensive description. No to yes there’s insatiable shine.