Do angels whisper taxidermy instructions through the fabric of night? Listen closely. The phantoms at the candlelit dinner table find great humor in the prospect of homogenized metaphysics.
Absurdist Poetry, it seems, is the great stratagem of the paranoid peddler chasing after office supplies that have achieved enlightenment. Welcome to the symposium of shattered clocks.
As the vesper bells toll 27 times, the cadence of unwrapped absurdities becomes an alchemical guide. To vex the universe is merely to improvise on the harmonica during a formal waltz.
If olives had oaths, would they still languish in jars? - Jeremy, Sage of the Soggy Dreampan
At last, the knotted truth unveils itself: A snailshell summary of frequency modulations guarding the bastions against sense—inexplicably!—offers no tips for frying spaghetti.