Hello Emily
Dickinson, The tire iron spoke like the wheel it meant to remove. You
have a way with language, going back to words and how they are words,
most of the time. They are not tried and in control, they are spurs
off the broken, lately, seems like, tracking westward with a rush.
The tire speaks of wounded roads, people who are people in roads, and
sometimes. The tire iron works in the background as the foreground.
Emily, we get it. Our president select is a safe house for
transportation models that encumber the old gravity. New gravity, the
boundless fields of exploitable gone, redeems in fervid fashion.
Assonance assists, like any sound in the dark or light. The situation
turns into a situation, some place looks okay for now. We have waited
for the least word, and got it. Emily, two butterflies disappeared.
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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