Barret Watten’s Frame — “A chain link fence around a vacant lot filled with/ trash. As if a _____ were inside them ..// A beam of sunlight refracted by a prism/ makes a display.// Until language is only relation-and we are/ being spoken in a dream.” 
 
Trash is egghead poetics, here boiled down beneath a lot better trash that has a value P (portent) inside, spoken to sotto voce and to stipulate processed conditions to make up — practice making perfect sleep time.   
 
Transition, Day Three. Disabused of crayons to create a hint of scalability.  First step. Leaking or semi-announcing utopic content, replacing the sleep we witnessed on the escalator.  
For credit, go to the next line.