The sky shares a simple rain and grey peace of morning news. We join in a gather, tying words to an effort. The sun is a could that looms for moments, some and all. We knew all time in its scent of rolling numbers. It provides a music that rolls a piper chord, mornings all a-bloom. Today is nature even if facts don’t exist. Just a dream of three strings sounded together or even more connection. The dream feeds house sparrows in their launching shrubs. Stand in the floating room, partners, this day, this day.
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...
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