Louis XVI among Trees, with Marie Antoinette queen, as and In trees and sooner to turn leaves, upon trees the nation, gurgling, even the Robespierre in several books, Danton, Mirabeau, and others, as such and official times, manufacturing history at a drop, the trees normalized by time in trees, furtive matters spoken of in crowded agitation, bearable trees in the sonance of people en masse and projected, dilettantish massage of effort ogling names of other trees, in books lavished in language sharing apoplexy and grime, loose trees, scented trees, participle trees, angled trees, and rivers, rivers light as words, usefully disdainful, projected and prosy, the King, the Queen, the inspired Provacateurs, lit by trees, sensed by trees, impressing nourishing guillotines and wiles, fenced by fencing, seething trees, ocean trees, files of trees, and meanwhile then
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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