Doesn't she appreciate a ticket? POSSIBLE WORLDS ARE STIPULATED and doublestruck, she, in duplicate on a short road. "I can't." Islands without prior written consent envious of empty islands in dimes that consent to "NO" sonorously. When is a door not a door? A door to "NO" unmentions the latest scholarship, hinged to reduction or contradiction. Or contradiction in droplets. Nothing moves. Envy. "I can't." Isles of contraries as envy is to hope. Aestheticizing ethics as in marble is lettering insofar as "HOPE" proffers "ENVY's" italicized "E" etcetera, improving the other's "H" through doubling. Or by having doublestruck hope enviously, or by envying hope's stasis, inscribing it notoriously, on the breasts. Extremists in marble notarizing "HOPE," and "E" having been inscribed in pestilence to whisk across "H" in bed. HAVING TAKEN THOUGHT UPON DEATH plunges us into non-contradiction exactly, more interestingly-paired incommensurate antinomies creating beautiful truths, no? Legendarily all-purposes: Bachelor Crossing. Liking hope and linking it, a theological virtue, with a cardinal vice. "Rarely, if ever" is flat. What do you mean: a good book? |
copyright 1994