People embracing the same cloud, spinning their bosons. People as quick as edited effusion downright, possible ranch where the next elephant can be first. A quick look asserts a practical side to terrorism. People have been fed with bell tones tuned to trickle theory. Trees in the offing insist on whistling to clouds, brash tactics for a new rocket season. Today will be the same thing as staking a witch. Same thing the dignity of arrows. Same thing rocketship to morass. A port opens in time for relief. War torn looks lovely this time of year.
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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