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.
Dear Assabet, the river that meets the Sudbury and floods the Concord. Dear river, you have moved something. You are not a regional rocket landing for the sake of what explodes density tribunal once. River goes out a spurt of earth to go some earthy miles in an active geology. Then the way water goes down, a religion of just that way. No guns and that famous spew right now. Paris is a town to the right of what we have mapped here. Assabet wants to be just Concord, you can hold your own. Own is the favoured stance. Poems are wormy things to dignify the vast whatsis of arrangement. Words. Words are tomorrow because today says something says something. We have to lie sometimes. Add that to nothing and nothing wants more meat. A poem become instant. An instant can handle the track, Aegean waves from after years star meaning moment. Meaning enters work, telling story, fractal. You are a useless reference.
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.