Potatoes swing and sway in the high speed entropy of soil, which you notably call dirt. Communal rocks of great savvy, potatoes bring the high glycemic existential problem of hunger to the carry on. The fast food that makes you slow, potatoes share need without the sanctity of pity. They grow together in darksome jollity, so you will know them well. They apply pace to every meditation. Food has never been ordinary but potatoes supply the grandest view of downtown. Foodstuff and staple, potatoes provide divots for groundlings while the builders vie for opportunity. Born to live but a little space, you receive urge from potato's promise. A world of fried splendour awaits, so long as you can open your mouth. Your mouth indeed presents the vestry to your chapel. Carbohydrates follow a plan you will never master, but you can share what you have.
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.
Comments