Since the beginning of marshmallow time, people have been starting arguments
to make the world a better palace.
Where commas, like pole-vaulters, leap long distances,
this is the land of naked ideas.
As they say in the story.
Clam seeks hot evidence for extremely explicit sentence-work.
Sad gravity drags parentheses and colons into a sunken lake of ellipsis.
A forlorn outside example, melting into impersonal puddles.
If only I could quote a semicolon in its self-deconstructing
expression of simultaneous continuity and discontinuity
to make my point about hegemony and catnip.
We are also different, when putting on our fonts.
Positions, like contortionist jazz, always improvisational and awkward.
Drunk dreaming of paradigms with Lego-like edges.
Parataxis, like some diabolical jump-rope game of sentence upon sentence.
Animals could be more specific.
Breathing is implicitly specific
but at 3am, everything shimmers with Platonic form.