GhostOfHeraclitus fan club archive

You don't wish to mess with the Ghost

[5] A footnote alone. Unconnected. What might happen in this stagnant linguistic-typographical backwater, in this little petri dish of words, what strange and exotic hybrids and mutants may caper, cavort, and gambol? Look, yon goes 'remorsel,' the smallest possible unit of guilt, and tither slithers mimsy, with slithy in tow. And these are merely the closest part of the Footnote Alone, the Fields We Know, in fact. Think what strange amalgamations might dwell deeper, nameless things like q7wr*, a word in search of a meaning, or Chmmr, a name in search of a vowel. Deeper still, the shortest poem, one character long--one that does not appear in any book, on any keyboard--dwells as king of a strange land of typographical innovation, where new and odd symbols swarm on the ragged sea-edge, warmed by a dying Sun. And beyond that, the Ocean of Meaning lapping softly at the shores of the Wordless isle where the three sisters, Tip-of-My-Tongue, Um, and Ah dwell in perfect silence. And below the waves? On the silty ocean floor? What man can say? What man can imagine?