When the waters of blood rise, you have your earthquake. You have to be close and tight and in the city. Funding for rankle will reach accord. No fault can be extended but faultlines. A noise will fill constitution, as if people concerned. Towers like ash. Votes contain corporations in the late aesthetic. Darkness in connection with darkness, geologic moon tide. Here your resolution invades the down. Lowered expectations rise to prominence. The country has become a piece of lost wood. You don’t know the reach of fire anymore. Anyway, the quick detachment, onerous satiety in exclusive precincts, a big town dropping down. Let the rumble be the music for the last time you looked.
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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