photon-eater

Cacophony, such a title for a helix of half-eaten words. Cacophony, but a sound of two rattling laconisms generated in the calefactor of the pages of a calendar There used to be a sun, set high like a carillon. Now it has been displaced, obstructed by buttresses and arbitrary figures How does one navigate the garden of walls and parisology? The name of our captain, the air-inspired panacea of ubiquitous persuasions, is charisma. Old Paracelsus had a notion, and perhaps it was true. If the world was called forth, then what are we but words? Earth, an eternal lexicon, each of us a constituent, a particle, a primary eleme