In the incredible place beyond the stars and requiem, furtive tho grey edge of a sunset dodge, even include a starburst of red light like something telling. Layers of life explain layers of time, until a town becomes a central theme, like snow melt. Longer than a sentence and with dire vowels to sound, speaking of a place where the water runs, the wind runs, and cooing mourning doves run, these patches of effort become towns with days. Everything displaces the next minute, then protocol reverses the trend. We are nations in the morning trying to explain the bent seasonal smell of these dead leave. Even Dick Cheney is a god unto himself. Introduce yourself to the blanket of your town.
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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