Caught in a tangle of subordinate clauses,
Mr Honk often pictured himself as a complex sentence
turned a garden path, a monochromatic hostage
of perception, a momentary anticipation
that ran its course quicker than one could say Dieu sait qui,
yet it never occurred to him to consult a local grammarian.
Perhaps he feared a war of attrition
between prescriptive and descriptive grammar,
or maybe he was simply too lazy to leave
the marginalia.

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More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com