It’s not just dreaming by piles of electric, the feathered jolt to integrate. We have bundles lost in magnitude, the thought experiments of getting out of town. Vague extension becomes process, and words become dilettantes. Praise Ocean for accepting us! We are dreams inside cans of dreams.
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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