They rain to literal, fit with facts. Hawthorne on the boat, Pond Lily, and the whispering half life of the Concord River resort to bright effects. A wind installed in the tucked duff beneath a serious tree settles a rabbit to its own personal marsh. Thought roomed for minutes with constant referral. Thoreau and his boat, Musketaquid, same boat as Hawthorne’s, and a trip to part of the world. Each part connects to a vocabulary. Hawthorne looked out the window of the Old Manse while the river eased its way. The landscape remained a process, with its own vocabulary. Treated as a vagary, each word resorts to distinction as a claim. Sunset bottled, then sunrise uncorked, or some metaphor between this history and your own. Picture that, said Thoreau, as Margaret Fuller, more like a countess now, drowned in homecoming.
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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