counterclockwise raze all days are arguments between the persistent past and the fugitive present. they parse out their poison piecemeal, too stubborn to acknowledge the limits of their insight and predictive powers. if time is a circle, we're all locked in its dull embrace, trying to fight our way free with fistfuls of stolen seconds and whatever words our mouths can carry. 230619 what's it to you? who go blather from