I was thinking of open form etc. as the torquing of the page and composition by background knowledge and belief. Tried that, and then edited as I previously was (so, to bring out what I feel repulsed from, etc.). I found to be a curious kind of inversion. The texture becomes quite euphonic, and it felt like that ordered the poem’s shape. I hope, maybe irrationally, that this works then like background music, setting the mood for the poem’s figures, so that the poem as a whole expresses the emotion latent in the metaphor.
If I was going to link that to my earlier statements about the grotesque, I would suggest that Olson’s anti-egoic “self” cannot make music taboo, suppress it into non-music, and that – in this incoherent non-poetic – the music reappears not, this time, as Wordsworthian non-poems, but a simple tunefulness. Here are three very short examples/experiments in this:
My breath’s candour as light
puzzle to voice I shift a single
Taxi door closed a
moment, having sun
grind the window,
I vouch we’d met.