Hair has something and becomes. A braid is one way, several braids another, many braids a wonder. Gather a handful with a stretchy thing. Pin locks in ways. Let parts or all be low or gone. Skin glisten if it can. Use product hold it tight, lifted or combed. Knot a hank and be done. Turn to colour, any colour a sport. A bandana for those times, a hat for those. Train it for curls or not curls. Be then in time with anyone else, explained as simply as the sky. The sky changes colour whether we live or not.
The work becomes chiding of sunlight. The work is elegy and shaded. The principle ciphers as a god, in the way transience is purpose. Transience works this brief, ending fields, making trees concern. The hell of halting midway identifies the work of burning thru. Forever makes a sign. Sign makes worthy. Indeed the tramp of feet forward concludes any sentences but suggests more. Long sentences, stupid words. The caroling heard by Dante, brilliantine remorse for a better tide. The long road up from down, and turned around. The work then becomes the work now, as stained glass similitude. Anxious in the class structure of catastrophe, the baying song over all. Nothing to do but be done. Ruskin gave you papers to remind you. Slow battering concedes the earth in time. Time being functional and oblique. The worker inside sees the nation by exhalation. Transitive connection sports of culture. The class that ends becomes the class that begins, both left and right.
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