Friday, January 31, 2014

Wake, say

It's all pretty obvious, isn't it? We have got into a habit.

Others (others...) - they do this and that, skirting around, batting balloons of this-and-that labeled with the name of some hither-comes-Harry toward each other. hah.

haha, say we.

100+ years to build a cathedral. A lifetime to paint the right painting. All morning spent putting a comma in, and all afternoon occupied with taking it out.

For every baby, a history of diapers. For every scholar, a library. The saint, a litany. The scientist, a laboratory.

Day into day, night from night. Jukebox music counterpoints paper, erasure, television, donuts. More music. More art.

Can we be brought to court? I hope so. We would enjoy our day in court. The attention, direct questions, an audience of mute compliables, and free coffee.

It is curious to me that anyone should believe that the period, such that we employ at the end of a sentence, means anything when we cannot agree on what poem should be written today.

I mean, when we all write the exact same poem, we will be getting somewhere people, so let's all concentrate.

...which is to say, that the word "form" means only insofar as one's means accommodate form in meaning.

Which is to say.

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