an embedded fibonacci mirror poem

Overhead

shrinking margins tell the story

Photo by My Profit Tutor on Unsplash

the pith of the story or the core of the poem is the essence buried in the greater, by volume, part of the work filling the ledger or diary or journal. while the value remains constant from the first, the ratio of, body to margin, meat to peas and lettuce, if you will, through the ultimate written word descends to a fractional coefficient as the ledger margins shrink with passing time overcome, or filled, as it were, by administrative flotsam demanded by the industry and accounting excess legislated by the Bureau of Literary Excellence by Common Habits. All of it, the tedious minutiae, sucking life out of each and every entry, every page until the spark of creation is diluted and fades into the end

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