Form, like trust, is a kind of principle. Like love. The incitement or engagement of the word or term begs use of the term "contract." Our intelligence is amazing though and can intercept this contract at various points, before, during, or after one or another's signatures are applied.
Love, the principle, is taken to be a kind of season of agreement, or the sound that accompanies agreement, or the principle that gives voice to oneness. Like form.
But I do not write in form because it is true, and I do not love because it is true.
I love because I was made to love. To not love would be to deny why I was made. Not its truth, but its being.
I write and speak to form because I am one among many, all who have fallen, fall, and will fall, even as day returns and makes young men and women want to write and fuck.
I am not young, but even as I disappear I am very happy at all the love and form that surrounds me. It does not occur to me to take credit for anything I have done, except to say Yes to all of it, to the whole schmear.