I am, aren’t I?

If you step out of formal calculus
into your own bedchamber,
there are no proofs, only presumptions—
subject to circumstantial evidence—
and algorithm-induced silence of the granary,
where you savour that quaint blend
of Demotic and Katharevousa in Cavafy,
never quite ready to acknowledge
your audience.


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

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