it was a lank discovery, studied so that peaches grew in equine summit, parsing swift umbrage with a glockenspiel drill. weird aspects sopped in nitrates loomed over nitrites on a breakfast morn with twin engine custard. why, then, do we dream in rich panacea, while the gods in goofball flopping spend sentences in torchlight? postulates of pungency sound like marzipan over prairie dog, and yet we return to the same manor, the same rood of temper, the same gorse-lined object sentence. a noun brings forceps while a verb tries hard. terrorists bring sump pumps to the back porch, and spring once again begins.
Walking is not walking if Gertrude chooses not to walk. The premise: Gertrude Stein is not walking. She may be on a boat, not walking, crossing the wide ocean sea. Leaving inevitable France but not walking. Dramatic but not walking. Sentenced but not walking. There were days of walking but not this day. Reading or just looking but not walking.There were sentences full of walking but not walking. Talking maybe but not walking in or out. A time lived and walking was done then if not now. It was a doing and it was a done. Not forgetting Alice who may have had walking done or even doing. The annals say Leo Stein walked along, up to and including the degree of not walking, along. Those flower names walked along, Matisse, Picasso, Laurencin, in varieties. An adding war or two closed or opened anything jump. Apollinaire in the historical. Languages of shapes and sizes bounding for just the time and a little beyond. And that was the how sentence. In that time but also forward until readi...
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