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My Sun

Embedded distance called

political traction. Can you, my

child? Waves of once were

off. The test of saying

the element again supports

a whole class

of viable

candidates. But the

candidates conform to the

slow burning picture. And the

child resumes in all

awkwardness. The criminal

class subjects words. Period. And the

political class has none. Class is a dis-

tinguishing fail of

floating. We would be marvel

centuries, real as rust and

dynamite, but crowded sentences.

We could be

plain. The cycle of

rejection specified in

building-oneself spurs

radial tires. Children,

let you really’

dream the child.

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