Tall as canyon and just as framed, the oak remains actual. At parties, oak looms. Acorns aside, oaks are not hilarious: they stand. They stand for all the forevers left, and you could be cousin to the node. Expect oaks to be hounded and impervious. In politics, oaks sway with the release of the forgotten. The silver sliding sliver of light invents nemesis, also called fire, but that moment’s snap refers to ages of diligent oak. Oaks can tell you, tell you. An ageless, endless, amiable leaf flies while time makes a whole. Autumn becomes a suggestion. Pizzazz is a word oaks rarely assert: just too capricious in the fields of time. Human truncation accepts ellipses, serious whispers of rock argue sanctity, but oak booms the placement of the top of the sky. People haven’t bloomed well, the oak must persist. Please, go often to your oak. A manifestation proceeds to chancery. People lost in lodestar might ask why time seems so picante. Oak scorns drift.
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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