Seasick

I’m seasick.  

REGARDEZ The nauseating forms of ideas and letters and letters and words.  It  reeks of menacing whispers warm and snug, tracing over itself and paved in itself and,

It’s the novel I cannot write.  It’s every novel I dare not read.  In this sea I’m able to see, in this raft I’m able to write.  The written words, lie the contours of flesh, lie some failures, lie and the true Truth lies;

they say.  And such.

Science is never uncertain; the clever ways of nomenclature ensure it.  How tame is the Universe, wooed by so-and-sos in such castrated grandeur.  Uncertainty invigorates consciousness - itself enchanted; Certainty, raveled, is no more than a senseless puzzle solved.