And all the disappointments connected with, and your falling too. The television employs furtive figures, glassy-eyed protuberances, and Regis Philbin. We have nothing to say, smack that black. A mountain wears thin, over time. Under time, there are moments between commercials. Regis and his sidekick are blamed. We read of alerted heaven but people are poor substitutes for the impact that they think they make. Desperation is a calling, like over that tree where the crows gather. Next is a passage read from the Holy Bible, by an expert in reading from the Holy Bible. Words on words, until the process point. That is where Regis and Kelly come in, paired brightly against satanic forces. Yes, Fu Manchu has targeted. We have nothing to do but bear witness to the fierce. It comes overland, with news from Burma. It comes by water, with opium implanted in the latest plan. It sticks to our guns like we stick to the rules. Regis Philbin tells the evil doctor some celebrity anecdotes. Dr Fu Manchu listens, eye glint. Wash of river over landscape, welcome by sea. Kelly is blonde and appropriated, so that is one starting point. Regis is 900 explanations of want. Satan is not in this story but words from Fu Manchu cause terrible aptitude tests among our children. Test scores are down, school districts are losing their edge, and friends are not friends this year. Regis Philbin will never burst, but dictate and diktat score loose overage on the person who was smoked. Forgiveness is not an option.
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.
Comments