Gloaming bought new for the occasion. Trapdoors of heartache cause batch files of debate. Oodles of concentration slip thru doorways, hatching plans. Now in plain words, now in not. There is a fist inside a glove, a glove inside a pocket. These are the times that are simply these times, not those. In the sense of opening a car door for the purpose of retrofitting the future, the future is roads to the next time. This time is caught in the fluxion, really great to hear news. There was a time when there was another time, but this fact lights difficult in this town.
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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