and with glorious this two-beat rhythms , like hooves on the clip-clop bearing the story along , like the westerners crossing the great plains in their covered wagons , i planned many times to bestow the animal hoof beat/heartbeat from inside the human chest cavity to the empty cavity of blank paper pages , blank at the beginning of life and blank at the beginning of art , and all of it , the sounds of my real past life and my grandiose future lies , seem extraordinary , every splash echoes in me .