consensual metaphor too, impersonal, uncoercive, democratic metaphor
Argue not concerning God and despise riches.
How many inkpots have been spilled to describe the abundance mindset, millions of words signifying nothing, the galling way in which wanting more always leaves wanting more.
death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones
Piles heaped higher than a tall man’s reach, which exceeds his grasp but only in the folded lineaments of placid dreamless sleep, which ends as abruptly as a clenched fist becomes a hand extended, but with less gravitas and coils of unfocused anger. Walking numbly in the wet dew across the grass, blowing on the the steaming coffee, content with diminishing deflationary returns, poor dumb fat and happy, the borrowed ambition picked clean as a preacher’s oval plate 25 minutes after the service.
Do I stutter and stumble over myself? Very well, then I stutter and stumble over myself. Wet leaves in dry creek, mind as threadbare as a wolfpack with nothing to scavenge and more running to be done yet tonight. Better to be a sophist gone aphasic, with the promise ahead of finding a path back to the word, through the word and carved out of the word, than to mine the quarries owned by another soul, with solace held out like a mirage at the working end of a pitiless desert extending to the vanishing point of the horizon in all four cardinal directions.
