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.
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
Comments
pieces of shiny words
radiate
frosty blurs
slyly approaching
subglacial sparks
slowly adjusting
to subliminal things
simply beyond
whatever azure languages
listen to
in the radical
heft of an
inner breeze
where maybe
nothing points
to nothing
but an aspect
of the aptness
of
itself.
pieces of shiny words
radiate
frosty blurs
slyly approaching
subglacial sparks
slowly starting to adjust
to subliminial things
simply beyond
whatever azure language
listens to
in the radical
heft of an
inner breeze
where maybe
nothing points
to nothing
but an aspect
of the aptness
of
itself.