A particle is born of the universal, then looks to assert itself, a period hopping across voluminous pages of poetic flow trying to create a stopping place, a spot all its own, refusing to go into a comma. It grabs a sword and makes itself an exclamation point, yet the flow goes on, swallowing up all exclaimings. Not to be outdone, the period hooks up with another period, forming a colon: making room, a sort of womb for carrying out their life sentence.
Pen-Ultimate
No comments:
Post a Comment