unless i'm a bench that talks horse trot i'm a horrid companion for your thinking, but since you're a horse trotting bench, i'll do my thinking and you your living. let's face it: if i'm a useless bench that talks horse trot, i must be a horrid companion in not wanting to hear your thinking but hear knocking on bench, as if the jean door opened with rip sizing up anorexia to be housewife material; leverage that cat into materials for solid 5pm meals meowed, i'm sure you'll find a safety pin in that haystack of yours first, than encounter a definition of poetry: fear of punctuation, hence cascade, poetry, fear of punctuation, or in anti-cartesian terms: i punctuate therefore i think, i am is already equated with sun and stone; that's poetry, because the other suitor only said something about two functions and one of them as a function using ambiguity from ditto to "function."*

you'll find that i said less of what i could have meant,
and sensed more of what i could have said,
but of that "more:" i meant more to be unsaid
than could have been said with an increment of sensed.