Think of New Zealand containing a dog named Jennifer Aniston. Think of Agamemnon, another dog, ready to conquer Thebes. Think of Theseus, who was smitten by the online presence of Jennifer Aniston, in the history of poetry. Think of poetry, which is ridiculous. You have time for some things, the wings of television spread, and flight is no more than a prime option. Read about the price of loving the spurt of information into the control tower of spring. Think again. Agamemnon put Iphigenia into the list. She was the next step, the birth of wind. Jennifer Aniston is stylized and long television. Ports open for the warships. Death is extreme. Real time is like death without margin. We read and write, a poem, perhaps. New Zealand is full, Janissaries urge pride. Rain is effective in a timeless way. A poem reckons time as a pattern of words and the space between. We are not reading beyond that point now, but someday, when Agamemnon and Jennifer Aniston wed, the crows will sweep the sky emphatically, and the Concord River will recede from it in sullen springtime flood.
The work becomes chiding of sunlight. The work is elegy and shaded. The principle ciphers as a god, in the way transience is purpose. Transience works this brief, ending fields, making trees concern. The hell of halting midway identifies the work of burning thru. Forever makes a sign. Sign makes worthy. Indeed the tramp of feet forward concludes any sentences but suggests more. Long sentences, stupid words. The caroling heard by Dante, brilliantine remorse for a better tide. The long road up from down, and turned around. The work then becomes the work now, as stained glass similitude. Anxious in the class structure of catastrophe, the baying song over all. Nothing to do but be done. Ruskin gave you papers to remind you. Slow battering concedes the earth in time. Time being functional and oblique. The worker inside sees the nation by exhalation. Transitive connection sports of culture. The class that ends becomes the class that begins, both left and right.
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