a poem for today, 1 January 2012
[a letter sort sonnet in 4 sentences with its image]
Conceived as a meticulously compiled and compendious miscellany, a grimoire or instruction manual without referent, as a delirious carnival of sobriety.
In this way, the subject is always linked to something outside of it—an idea or principle or the society of other subjects.
Marginalized, self-righteous, we just keep on keeping on, insulted that no one returns our calls, secretly expecting no less.
He thought that at the moment of his invention of the uncountable infinite, he was God’s administrative employee.
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