I like words what are words what I am.
I do confess that I must truthfully assess myself as prolix, being as I am a being incapable of brevity; of using one word where two might more aptly or gracefully serve; and most given to verbal floretries, flourishes, falderal, and so on, and so forth, et cetera.
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My one-legged pa got a job
Editing manuals for something called “Unix”
“This chapter’s absurd,”
He’s been known to observe,
“And that one is too long and prolix!”
(okay, I tried)
A Stab
Prolix, I
observe the sky,
eye
not the clouds,
but a cumulonimbal communion,
not the moon,
but a crescent contortion,
not the stars,
but a celestial collection.
Oh, but language is a tyrant
who tears earth’s shadows out from heaven’s sons,
renders passion into memoirs,
severs us from the sun.
Re: A Stab
I like it.