When you are with me, rains are pencils, and that’s didactic. Tornados mark classes. We arrange the flexing toward alone yet quake of the certain lost measure. It’s a mountain, that stepway large and holding sky ideas. We are carried centers, clusters, cooling matter in the forest throng. There will be a day, because all days have that measure. No one consumes the rational path but bends and wiggles mild and proper expulsion from the card of garden. Names made terrific for the crusty season, spent on tours thru clutter, spoke, and rumour idol. This is the bond, tho more arises, skies arise, the tornado seems like Harvey, the rabbit of Jimmy Stewart. Hello, and smackerel, this chance of time in year. We were ready for this. We ride to ready this.
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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