Simple Theories

The National Place remains smooth bore with loose, wobbly aim. You can speak Arabic in one end, it comes out all squawky at the other. The National Place holds regards for the language of language. It means to say meaning meanly, with low compunction and high ad rate. In the old days of perfection, you could write about anything in San Francisco. This would include colourful shirts and interesting eyeglasses. A reference to the love in all of us, sometimes called white bird, hovered above the pen. In the days of long shadows, a pioneer said yes to pumpkin. Right to the pumpkin's face! The National Place had a face for this. The days of short shadows gave us a trace of aplomb that we could call fear. We used the fear as a National Rite, in the picture of falling towers. Now we ask Thoreau: what is the meaning of all your beans?

Some masterly Baroque music, like iron, talks heavy main majesty. It could be sited with bird flower tones, safely gazing, but sometimes it raises national interest in men. Men remain a purpose of explaining purpose to a truck, even as the cliff edge beckons. The banner is blind. Somehow our republican mass squares this with ulteriour features that include boundaries and depressions. None of this can be called dialogue because dialogue implies sentient drifting. Or dialogue infers sentient drifting from the provocative economy of chance. We need not blame Baroque for pushing. Push belabours shove in national chant. Our racist friends understand the chairs they sit on. All chairs remain intact in the Baroque mind. Not blaming Bach, who built a church vivid frequency. Just seizing signs of the engine that men want to, indeed.