The way red maples imitate Byzantium, when Byzantium ions sustain Norway maple perplexed with the intrusion of cold air masses. Republicans resemble parsing, if parsing were the word for feathery litmus. But if feathery litmus were the extent of parsing, crashing of periodical airplanes, and a Timbuktu positron seduction to rival the best cheap vodka, would be the ultimate sweat lodge for Friday night. Is this extreme? Are marshes extreme, for all the petulant stairways thriving in the modicum of constancy? You seek thrushes that refer to brownness, opals that are opulent water, stem cells that create mocking, and oracular miniskirts that resume a bygone cage. Position rebukes boom box, our native Republicans like steam, our Democrats crave wet. In stylish organdy, the teasing philosophic lodestar crumbles nuclear. You who region budget-savvy refrain from excessive Triassic periods, knowing that we are all born in a cave-in in Jura, like a bunch of crowded bulimics. We all but like them. So now, with civilization in hand, lights cresting on Doppler sunsets, and splendiferous sunset has been inculpated finally, well that I like you, meanness of human contact. A poet contains a poem but is no more than a planet surveyed by ballistics.
From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.
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