Daylilies grab the land in bursting moment, a kindly land grab maybe you could say. They have seen daffodils confine themselves to everything in the single soul brightness of spring. Daylilies in their then and following push the plenitude with ornate quickness. They play like ruffians but in burst. Bursting reminds the second, and time can't fill the cup. A time of blossom doesn't sync with time at all yet syncopation rides. Pastures of rain state the obvious, as do the willowy clouds above. Provinces of natural flowers return the gaze and look ahead. We are trying our instant love, they say or never even have to say. The garden congests for one last fruitful time and all the ensuing ends of time. Then, then we say once more. Once more is only just a smile, traditional as a kiss. The plenty sparks go deep with gloaming saturation. And there is there.
From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.
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