I wrote this sometime last year, but apparently forgot about it.
I tread on with the Moabites, seeking their praise, silver and jewels. "I cannot contradict the ineffable," but I march on, afraid to contradict these messengers.
But still my ass, wiser than I, stubbornly refuses to move. Twice she's flogged, and twice she stands up and walks. Again she's flogged, but finally she speaks her mind:
"Why do you treat me so? Have I not carried you from your home?"
And thus I lie: "No."
Arbtirary thoughts on nearly everything from a modernist poet, structural mathematician and functional programmer.
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