Imitate the iambic, the trochaic tragedy, the ethical epic.
Metre, measure, multiplicity, merit.
Ludicrous and transcendent we speak in scale to express and entertain.
It exists inside everything that ever was or ever will be and continues on outside of us.
If language were machinery instead of machinations of the mind, what towers would it build, what acrid smoking pile of rubble?
Our tongues fill the holes of our souls up with these words, wrap them in our slippery guts, climb out of the world on their backs and fall forever from the cliff when we lose our tenuous grasp on their imagined meanings.
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