Prime numbers react to acids vented from archetype. Dream in which spelling counts, then night of long knives. Logically speaking, not so soothing, when the adding is done. They were children like reaction, attending Phish concert number 17101. The set list was hot, and every instrument in the band made sound. In fit vagary, ocean spun calculated tang for the bums in luxury. Resistance means universal health care, poured on the shores of taxation. This reveals why people stagger. Trees mean something until winter, then the wood is easy burning. So are children, in the back seat of each city. So are spellbound denting of pillows, as the head falls for slumber in an age. The guitarist of importance scratches chords from elegy. Or whatever, child in time.
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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