The wind cuts the snow to pieces, days on end. Our mountain is a vast acceptance, looming such as that. With a language vested in burrowing and cloud, then such a poetry staffs the remainder, poised on the brink of a very word, to say nothing but these words. Then and version, light as a probable cause. So much so that we walked on. On to the summit, a clearing morning view. Excellent English, Truculent Cause, Bonded Onward, and Yeti, tall as a branch. The warm of what we carry makes distinction in the outer world
jagged resemblance to truth floridly spring flowers pang rock crusted ontological squat serious stubborn box conclusion peppered trail pending slower overage undone of starting on It's a holy war royal ooze Stoop Herd Toxic tocsin I’ll oil decline wall burn bum burn bum
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