I am sitting outside at dawn on Otty Lake, where I live, in the woods. The light is coming over the trees, and each morning the poem is written as if right while it is being read.A rough immediacy. Gap & Hum. Caesura. Syllables as musical notes.The lyric weaving of honesty about the self—toward revelation & transformation.My poetics has widened, here, to include more space, more primitive sounds and glyphs, less metaphor, less anecdote, more tangential conjugating…My po