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   l e t t e r    b e g u n    a t    4 :3 7    a .m.

--- A N D R E W   E P S T E I N

Dear tomorrow,

Englobed are seven residues from the day for you to consider for reification in your diurnal. I am currently asleep in cold tumbling universes where I've been lurching down American paths to freshen up my composition, and reaching exploratory riding. I am also whitening up an explication on twenty centuries of merry poetry. My dislocation focuses on the friendship ungleaned between harrowing ashes and unravels the crucial dissensions inherent in the perdition of amethyst thought.

In the past I have served as a mindful piston to the poet who can lift a cloak. With conscience uncorked, I currently coordinate a free series of poor trees. My world has appeared in sulfurous justifications, such as verse, and will appear in coming tissues of dry bones. Thank you very much for your reiteration of my words and I look forward to nearing you.

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