Spastic and Ekphrastic (redux)

Blindly devote yourself to formulary Z-074. Make triplicate copies send one to me, one to Human Resources, and one to the Department of Repressive Operations. Sing, glory be! Gloriole and halo benders and everything is ordinary until it is not. Then we’ll have to consider how I melt multiphasic multiplying the meaning of nothing this is something unseen… what doesn’t kill you makes you spastic and ekphrastic. Please don’t embarrass me in front of my secular pilgrims, they’re in a hurry and flying fast. They’re fasting at the speed of light, grasping at the site of blight. Remember the feeling you had when your teeth were removed with a mallet. Remember the pity you felt at shaving your beard with a hatchet? The nicks and the deep lacerations from running in place with shaving cream in your eye sockets and one hand in your pocket? Well, that’s what I’m feeling now.

What I’m Reading:

“… choose a place where you won’t do very much harm and stand in it for all you are worth, facing the sunshine.”

— E. M. Forster / A Room with a View