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.
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.
Comments