– after Graham Priest’s ‘paraconsistent’ logic
The flow within proceeds – parallel or doubled – a celebration of what’s blocked between.
Assume consciousness is parked in the storm within – a contrast that allows all inference. The compost of thought ground in fact. This news is not accumulation – it’s the byproduct that pays back. But none of it buys a daily deadline.
Internally with others or alone, I am chunked in a certain sense. Not uncommonly inconsistent I swallow sweet inference – a reign free of limited permeations.
Caught between temperate zones our choice is to lick or be licked. Kitten with two tongues is devoured by a snake. Inadequate image of a friend apt to stray.
She moved Legos from box to box. Translating torsos to brick a trail. I backtracked to plagiarize the footpath and misspelled my name. Stepping into the dark, a monument stands against inverse proportion, character that transcends the logic gates.
It’s this tender time theory forgets. Robotic engagement not of the world but of flesh. All this drawing with wings worn. Each night a density of bird or bug. It’s the intermediate body that refuses. Your ass an isolated edict. Inviolate world free of discharge. Its seedlings a packet addressed to all employees. Downriver my wet wound pleads the night. It’s the yelp of ages. How I howl for the heart of kings (a Knaves taunt) set to refuse angels.
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