Stars in space are as cells in mitosis, he heard her say, or so I would say he heard her say so as not to be seen as someone who would say such a thing for himself. Each one formed by related processes, I would go on to say he heard her say, as we usually find in fictions of the sort that are told by a narrator narrating something about someone somewhere who has heard something said by someone saying something; however, when, I am not going to tell you, time in this telling is irrelevant.
Out of time, and if out of time, then out of space; they are a unity, you know—no? A continuum together woven inextricably?
Stellar evolution is mitosis in outer space; I love to stretch metaphors, mix them up like cocktails . . . mitosis the same inverted within the womb. Human life is cosmos, you could say I would have said he had heard her say. What then would he have heard her say, or say that he had heard her say? Woman is cosmogony, he did hear her say, I say I said he did.
How is the expansion of the universe not like a womb expanding? A question that anyone who thinks about it could pose. To pose, to put, to place, to posit, all positions suppositions; everything suppository.
How is it that we have to believe that anyone would have to be a woman to see such things as these?
The Falling Leaf Review 