Creation limps to see the sea. It’s a lot of trouble. Verbs work, okay, and nouns mean something solid. Then adjective colours the spaces between and around solid. Adverbs declaim the speed, tho our presidential discoveries may not know this. I heard a preposition once, going towards, I think (a tree was involved). In Lowell, Massachusetts, literary punctuation mark, and historical byway, there were attempts at language. Mainly some factories, a river, and canals. We hear these instant things, furrows of effort, and Charles Ives looks at Aaron Copland. Less saturated is the sentence, when you carefully place the period at the end. The end must be indicated because ideas are formal institutions. Like slavery, and stuttering function of the griping class. Creation begins to see paragraphs, rewards of effort. Stanzas are paragraphs, make no mistake, just as the moon circles aimlessly while clouds obscure the facts. In Lowell, steeples fulfill the promise of skyline for a while. The tenor of some rot and buildings works into dismal demonstration of economic means severed by a few human beams. Their light wasn’t little more than. Under that bridge rushes important water over stony riverbed, with eager power developed from how that mass in motion translates into the firm belief in system. Electrify me, says Lowell, staunch for the bucket filled to a brim described by our betters. Someone plugs in the refrigerator and Budweiser fills the temporary home. Meanwhile, creation limps to the sea, like a plain book or a bowl of porridge set adrift with mentioning. This casting about, with words featured in every remark (almost), constitutes a property of which we are an element.
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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