Tonight, I purchased magnetic poetry to bring meaning to my life. The next hours, I’m sure, will be spent tearing little magnets one from another and retrieving the fallen from the floor as I ponder the deeper meanings of “Kafkaesque.” The inane drivel I shall conquer with the help of both the Genius and Artist sets of black concepts on brilliantly white, magically adhesive canvases will place even the crassest pariah securely within my kin.
A “Genius Edition Mini Dictionary,” packaged cunningly alongside the Genius set from which I have drawn so much of this evening’s verbosity, is certainly the proper tool with which to slather the minds of my pleasant readers with the mellifluous turgidity of our language’s more nefarious concoctions, and to satisfaction’s end I shall do so.
Yet, amidst the many words and fragments of this steel-clinging duet, a single combination of vowels and consonants embraced on either end by empty space brought limpid contentment to my mind. Paragon to my lips, tongue, and heart, it even brought a title to this post.