Why This Does Not Count
I could. Say what you mean. This must make sense.
What would be the point if no parable could be derived
from this garbled lack. Fate lies in our hands now. “But
what about the inevitability of censorship?” says some
kid in the balcony who may or may not have raised
their hand beforehand (I’m not wearing my glasses).
I walk all the way up and hand him the textbook, which
is half theory and half fiction. And maybe a smidge of
poetry, but who’d know? “We expand the arts and the
natural sciences,” the professor says. I profess that I’m
not a firm believer in the evolution of a species, anthro
pologically speaking, of course. I mean, my feet may
seem to stand upon a firm slab of desiccated terra firma.
But how can anyone negate the facts? We’re all doomed.
The Pile of Words Dithers No Matter
Their Cumulative Geometrical Guise
