He can juggle several books at once,
from religion to biology,
but prefers juggling the
Christian narrative
and grasping blindly
in the mystical dark
for lobsters,
claiming things are as they
ought to be,
self-evident destiny being
the new
manifest destiny,
and if you challenge him
as he rambles along
the ocean floor,
(and trips over his
many twisting tentacles)
he may effuse a voluminous
puff of
darkening ink
(pedantic verbiage)
to mask his
post-modern escape
as defined words dissolve into
meaninglessness around him
and his trained
seals
clap raucously for him
in the shoals,
floating within the shallows
and threatening to go off the
deep end.
But he will never venture
into the land of light
or else he
deflates
with no solid bone structure
to keep him upright
as he becomes a
muddled puddle of
confused,
entangled
abstraction.
The Self-Hating Post-Modernist Octopus (Jordan Peterson)
Published
Tangleroot And Tressknot 