If I could write... The 10 impulses exist in an age to come. Come or tomb? Faces, lies.

Stevens would have lies cut off stubs stretched down in the landscape..
I do think from a scorned point of view. By design we open our front door and see what politics didn’t do. The shortest path ignited by havoc, honest and exhausted people. From it’s-not-the-same-now to the science of celebration — their betrayal is addictive, seamless abandon. 

That insight gives one the strength to make oneself at home, stay there, yours alive ameliorating. One no longer feels naked, no gaps or overlaps in one’s silence yellowing with age; all one commands is weeping, glowing back and forth mistily across an immense daze, half of it waxing with the plump tesselation adorned along mortal circumstance.