Absentee Ballots dumped near home twice. Once would be plenty, poor Absentee Ballots. The mean people leave them and their earning power. Home won’t be the same with dumped Ballots nearby. These days are closed to discussion. Someone dumped. Someone took dumping procedures upon Ballot Absentees. This is life once. NOW, hereby, Absentee Ballots face real world, again. Dumped in their prime. Was that Romney’s poor spirit flushed or Obama’s? Flocked to the sea to see Phrynne pick up a Ballot with one of those names but only then then send it windward with wind word. The wind takes all Ballots, Absentee or Otherwise. Once is a fall, twice is falling. Now the people make their own maps, turning left and right around Mitt and Barack. Glenn Beck remains a Trojan Horse salon.
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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