The town was a specific quadrille. Leftists were right, and Rightists were left. Geese flew in tandem, except the loss-engendered ones. This is factual, like wind thru trees dynamically. The town fits a presentation theory, and we gather in collision. We have seen birth and death, and U2 working the crowd. Galway Kinnell is now a fact of Providence, Rhode Island, like a truck stopped in the Callahan Tunnel. District Court, time off from work, take time off from work.
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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