Dawn becomes satisfied with the ash of night. It seems permanent in the country and transversing the land, but islands disappear everyday. Eke of colour from the center, presenting now as a transitive purpose. Vantage light fills the cave of sentence. Time patch not holding. A slick, ragù-voiced preamble turns grey to pink. Call it totally dope, an occasion to speak. Light supervises, your reference establishes your reference. Passage frames the esplanade and maybe you perceive. Look, tho, whales sound in the sky, big as endeavor. Ships pass, sargasso nonny nonny, but now you see transit flying like Mercury. Clearly in motion, shadows have lost momentum, more like a practice. The palimpsest looks set. Practice dawn from over night to smaller minutes still. Hold still and stiller still. You wake or think you do. Stand down, mordantly drawn frame of angels we have heard are high.
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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