The Long Knives were a destiny faulted in the prime of continental consideration. Horizons include clouds that have invested the clustering seas and beyond. We were men and women once, in a land of ardent branches of trees and mighty squirrels gamboling to the edge of the Mississippi. Then we laid down the law. This law is a vision of expanse, promulgated for authority and package in the idea that someday, Republicans and Democrats will debate whether education is a part of living expense. Saturation lives in the exhaust zone, which is a march thru swamp. Swamp is passive, and people die that way. A person is a collection of accents that sound awfully foreign. A person is a claim dating from the time that they fell on the sidewalk, and waited in pain for the insolence of the relief vector, community styled embrace. Long Knives were excellent colonial expressions, knives of working and trust in organization. The freshets of that time stopped for winter, but barged ahead once spring signed release. This continent… murmured the viable, and the rest of the sentence fit the exclamation perfectly. George Rogers Clark, you see, was one adjutant in the wide pharmacy of being in the plan and seizure when countries intend on placement. Wells fill finely with exact water, which will include human growth principle, directly into the vestige parlour of the coming centuries. American rancor of adjustment insists on positive renown, to the degree that we live flush against the sagging margin of where we have not yet been. We called them Indians and us the People, tho People in the sense of particular human seems a straying pitch. Our land is not famous for everything, only for our birthplace. Concord was one land, signed for in usual wobble then sent sideways by a pressing forage. Yes, and trails painted a fall into the landed culture, bound augustly to that paint. Sweat lodge remains in the outer chamber, where Long Knives show European industry in simple weaponry and plan of adventure. Adventure ended with John Wesley Powell, who was doused with real water on the way down, "treating of matter, motion, and consciousness as related to the external universe or the field of fact,"
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
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