The bass player in
the middle of direction. Time passed filing date, a logic sent from
when words were. It isn’t easy. A sentence has flowers for
approval, late in the rhythm of only a poem. You want the people
whole. Whole is the heaven of inside. Words as a direct sort of
godthing, laden not prepared. We aren’t the nation of knowing, now
or today or the last thing left. We have to tax and look around
corners. Well. This plain where the dogs and cats adjust to no dogs
and cats. Specious remark left for the space between us. Donald all
trump, you are the gorgeous loss lit finding not a pasture fit for
approval. The sun was blue.
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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