Join Blue Jay in saying Holy Shit!!! with finely-wrought exclamation points!!! (three at the very least). [One exclamation point don't say shit, two exclamation points is poetry served to monks]. Blue Jays have to be poets because NASDAQ has never heard one. You remember that time when you remember that time? Blue Jay explodes that. Now is what today is about before you forget the words. Words last mere seconds until bungled, changing to assertions of primate primacy, and lo, horizons shrink forthwith. So today becomes alert and even 'now' by virtue of, word up. Blue jay spent some gainsay of the votive vocal pellet of available instance available only in the present now, not the one manufactured at convenience. Blue flashes of inconvenience, tippy spacing of something from else, the wild of life listening: kicking currency to the end zone voice of landscape boss and believer. You heard it, you know. Blue register high life fromage.
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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