Survivors of aphesis, possums stand out as North America's only marsupial. They choose a marsupial lifestyle because the thimble-sized babies have yet the strength to bear this world's love. But they will grow, tho death is near, borne by mater, till they can live full possum life themselves. And live they do, with pointy claws and teeth, and a scrounging appetite. Their trick of feigning death when physically threatened seems casually unsustaining but they survive in a world of busy cars and roads to nowhere, just like you. What dimension might possums possess while faking a catatonic state? The opiate of owning never concerns them. Fear stands as just a contingency in the moment’s density. Possums hear the time it takes to live here. When every word has finished, so do you.
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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