The Bible mentions a burning bush amidst its languorous story hour. Being a book, The Bible prefigures time and space just as do you in your varied blurring. The biblical Burning Bush had an angel inside and the god deity also, or something like that, however you want to picture that. And this phenomenon spurred something in the eyes of Moses tending Jethro's flocks. Just read how words can reside where they are. This story relates somehow to euonymous alatus arriving from Asia, just another wandering, decorative, invasive hobo. The plant's flower barely makes impression, don't worry about that. As a shrub it remains dispirited in its plodding enchantment. Being thus a sensation, it opens your eyes. In Fall, when your eyelids have fully risen, the burning bush foliage reveals the scarlet of its secret. Well, messages appear everywhere concerning time and death and other vague associations. The Bible has been trouble enough with its handles but bolts of red in your Autumn eye must mean something. A morning fog burns off in the growing day. You have flown this far: keep flying.
From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.
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