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.
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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