Biology we are cold architecture, drawn by unwitting fingers— meat and bone, drunk and full of ghosts, warm whiskey and misguided notions of creation’s absolution. intoxicated pantomimes, the quadriplegic speaks profanities and blasphemes to the sky— nickels in a straw-knit hat and dime-store memories. I laugh and fall, laugh and fall upon absurdity’s imbrue. - Joseph M. Gant