Treasuring the longest language, stilling the sun. Absolutes of radiation curl over the waiting for spring. Dolts in their jazzy cars, popular moments in history. One day and all the buds of spring become chilled effort reeling in the government aggregate. We can't tell who the good guys are except that they don't exist. Mr President, where is Mrs President? Who will fight the frightening apportionment? Only buds in spring, with their flower secret, and a still resonance of fine cabal. Why can't we live thru winter, all the trees are dire. And the sentence formed of sighing opens doors to just another taxonomy of language. At least the birds the dummyheads fly nicely in the park, where they grind their teeth like citizens. They are only pieces in the sentence, mere adjectives dressed as nouns, but someday someday someday...
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...
Comments