Simple Theories

This is the time when the way of the leaf. The thing of turning, in a tree lifetime and with words, works for better days and this is just to stay. Kind regards and never leave. Or if you leave, be in forever ever. Or if the trees lose leaves, let the sunlight hold the tree. The tree will instant, all in good time. All time, all good, all tree. And if singing is a guide or poems made of marsh, then let the sound of filling fill. A moment is grand to taste. We have to be as we have. These trees are singular and moment. A hand is made to hold.

Miss you and the words. Claims fall in nettle bunch. Colours remain strive. A patch of alternate quick frequent bowing sternly fixes redolent patch. A period powers on. A stanza decides a breath. People include enumeration. Glad tidings when all the baseball teams win. This present is now now. Now the igloo now. A poem and anyway. We write our words and words of others. The present becomes a stag or feeling in the glare of headlight. A town precedes a sense of misery. We vote with our conscience not our conscious. A clicking sound, like a whale sound. Under- neath is a brimful of a whale in a moment, breath. We think we know. No, we think we. Today is a debatable day.