with windows of clean power, gruff brown bark on the sedentary
trees, a vocal majority without words (not real ones), with sentence
structure amassed in piles by lawns of water or dirt, the central
pictures of an anxious squirrel with prime sense of mortgage, and the
clear meaning of green leaves at their timetable—the sky is blue
like under advisement!—meanwhile, an unarmed teen, massive rally
(amazing people), the words under the words aren’t really words,
not words like that...
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
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