Why are people washing ashore? Dolphins may have dents such as critical hits, duct tape, an impressive spree of ignorance. The crux of affirmative action resides in a completion of earth strides in progress, future, and failing light. Just vote for nothing more please and be done. Dolphins are smart as delectable moments but lack thumbs and 401ks. Do they eat their young like we do or can they prepare the future with inviolable sass? The dolphin team lacks initiative vis-á-vis hope for future sort of shit. Dolphin is the peopling we got to replace. Nothing sticks out lastingly in the big ocean overall but we can bring shit. Shit has a permanence that poetry can't get. We like to be teammates but a show of power would be nice. Saving a swimmer with chatter fails big picture-wise. Look at the polls. We cannot fit extra people into the firmly described planet of our sounding condition. Octopus has resigned, sharks star in movies, orca outfox seals: the wave leaves us unimpressed. Moby Dick can sink to certain levels but that's just literature, not meaningful in the executive gasp. Trial balloons confirm the edges of air, but what if we don't believe in breath? Dolphin can head down and down, and there's no good capitalism forever. Sticking to facts or the like, dolphins just breath air and lie about the future. The future resembles a canny orca as a seal slips into time, the ending thing. Intelligence is the gravy of knowing nothing.
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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