In a canny move, the grey remnants of poet Walt Whitman bought the rights to lilacs. Purple and white with ripe green herbage and a fragrance of abundance, lilacs exist and subsist as subsumed sentiment now. We believe implacable legend has purpose. We try to ignore "O Captain! My Captain!" as the poor marketing transport that it is but lilacs in spring loss fosters something deeper. Whitman knew he needed something deeply riding and present. Lilac skips ahead with a shout and full vernal escapade. Wherever Dooryards gather, there might you see lilacs a-bloom. We can forgive Walt and the crust of his beard. The nation is a bedstead and the cranks have long Lankin dreams. Consumerism called the shots all along, but lilacs stay.
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...
Comments