Commonly called milkweed, this fervid plant also goes by the name Asclepius, with a trundling list of species names addended. In the days of Greek, the real thing, Asclepius was a god without benefits, just like you. No thunderbolt tricks, no shape-changing swan sex. Asclepius boringly earned renown, aside from being Apollo’s son, from mere knowledge in medical healing. Of course his father killed Asclepius’ mother because god but saved the infant in her womb also because god. So we have a story and a franchise. Asclepius found weeds less worthless than you do, and learned to use nature things with which to concoct cures or simple calming, Mojo Hand and John the Conqueroo until blended, tho in Greek. Sway insofar as butterflies enjoy the trick of flowers open elemental. Meanwhile becomes broadcloth, then the milkweed pod files exploding floating seeds to sail and mean. You have watched the patient wind-caressed dogged plea oblivion. The seeds float and fluctuate knowing nothing as much as you do. Sound familiar? Expert Greek knowing starts with knowing Greek starts. Amazing Greeks had tables and people enjoying fronds of health. Listen to the Greek knowledge while Greek time ticks in time to the space between your hopeful ears. Milkweed in the space of place brings scented sentences in just time. Your eyes just go forever.
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