Saturday, February 9, 2008

Sub Throng Clearance

booster rocket succeeds from a standpoint, which is a poetic thrill tied to a tree. the tree is no strange but only lasting. it lasts, quote, "after the dog dies", but before the soon smell of flowers on the all enclosed green framework, trying to get to know. the rocket has the sense, then after falling, this is all. we refer to the news. the planet hates the edges where nothing goes. we write up symptoms or approximations. the rocket, junked, falls back. effort pushed something out, a word. space is a doctrine yet we lose many terms just by watching the rocket fall. spring is here, almost, we have pictures of what will come. rain will return for snow while flowers will gain again. the tree will embark on further tree. all this is instantaneous humid being, a hematologist, perhaps.

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