Oh, Jeez, I’m reading this again. It made a big impression on me, but I never really got why, maybe because I never got it figured out spatially. I do tolerate a good amount of uncertainty, almost view it as resource, like a contractor who has jobs lined-out years in advance who knows he won’t soon be out of work. Today, for the first time I read the “I” as a flesh-eating beetle—what else could travel through a face? The sky-line of incisors was problematic until I turned the deceased’s open mouth into the earth. Eii! It reads much better this way, the settling pools and quarries for extraction have really taken on new life in this scene of death and decay. It reads as a scathing commentary on the relation of the abstract to the visceral. This seems like the sort of thing you might want to say. Weirdly enough, I am still not entirely certain I have got your meaning right, so the job is unfinished, no one goes home, nobody looses a job — there’s still work to do.