Colonies of Mitochondria with Wit

The constituents of genius aren’t difficult to name. It’s

plainly made of multi-colored opal and varieties of silver,

and not the highest grade of either. It feverishly levers into

shapes and shades which, when the wind blows at particular

.

velocities from east to west, can wrest the generating beast

in it from its thick mineral mélange into the air, upon which

contact it flares ominously and spontaneously to combust.

Of course, wind almost never blows from east to west

.

and when it does (though not at best), the self-combustion

often ends in genius farts, not something in the sciences

or arts or other more arcane endeavors thought sublime.

That can happen too, of course, but it requires mastering

.

resources in another medium, a bit of tedium so many of

the rest of us resist because so long dismissed as lunacy: that

tryst with this existence known as alchemy, which out of fragile

luck and random chance mix with whatever lies inside those

.

Genius’ heads, or pants, to va-va-voom the energy of thought

into new synergy with matter – which with ridiculous simplicity

then scatters all the crackling intuitions, aperçus, purviews

and overviews of Genius Mind. But why is silver mixed

.

with opal catalytic? No genius knows, nor how to make

the thing it brings, before whatever sings into the ear

the song of how to get it to appear, that he or she or it or

colonies of mitochondria with wit will one day somehow hear.

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