Wednesday, March 14, 2012
A proposition possesses essential and accidental characteristics. Neon, stupefaction, and leather. Words meander. Description unzips. Helicopters survey the traffic. A joyride accords occasions for expression and perhaps a little redemption. One of these days the windows will strangle their mass and yield profusions of milk. Who would prefer the clacking of jade pendants if she heard the stone grow in the cliff? Definitions are formed by canvas and metaphor. Waterfalls clothe the air with energy. Poetry, on the other hand, does not wish to fall into theory, but pullulate with words in the margins of society, wheeling round and round like a mad mechanical wart. What else would you expect language to do? It begins in the uterus, with sound, then grows into speech and drifts into reverie.