by Ali Znaidi
Sun can be a thick lemon in the mouths of invisible sea
monsters. The sea waves take the camouflage of sullied
lemonade. It’s a matter of betrayal. A corpus of concepts
distorted by translation and empirical encoding. This sun
has arisen from a corroded sky, an eczematous firmament,
or precisely, from a foundation that has nothing to do but
conceal and mystify, creating glossy legends, but, in fact,
the coin inside the wallet is rusty. It’s just a schema using
fake metavariables that may be replaced by flowery linguistic
items to yield malformed formulae—Fake golden piercings
on the monsters’ tongues—This monstrous, one-sided, ugly
truth they want us to believe under the lure of yellow shadows.
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