So the tree frogs gather up there in the trees, logically and confirmingly. God—you know, as in God—who has been known to flood the earth according to several reliable traditions, sends a good dousing, perhaps as a reminder. Untold tree frogs find themselves washed from the tree and maybe drowned or otherwise screwed. Well, what about that? No telling, the world is too much with us. Tree frogs don't represent a single species. They just happen to choose an arboreal habitat, much like you might choose to live in the boonies. Perched in trees on summer nights, the male chorus sings the frog version of sinuous mating call or whatever subtle rapture, unless swept away by the God of Downpour's parlour trick. It's all life in the frog lane, which indeed is your lane as too. Might as well go out singing, in the springtime minute.
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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