I've just returned from a writers' conference in New Orleans, where the language games are played a little differently. I read a couple of interesting essays by the poet C.K. Williams in the airport on the way home that bear on our discussion here--I will post some thoughts on these tomorrow. In the language game we are playing here, in / on this blog, this post represents a ritual taking up of temporarily dropped threads. And is there something magical about the number 20 (as in PI 20) that wants to prevent us from passing over the threshold?


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