Consider the orchard. It judges moments by eons. It knows the passivity of red sunset. The skirling readiness of grey dawn excites the orchard. The trees of orchardness symbolically bear light with vigorous enfranchisement. A word exists for that, if you can find it. Stories told become, which awkwardly implies lanterns. When you walk in orchard you think of the borne fruit. That fruit unravels time in a seductive test case. A blue sky brings proverbs. An aptitude for music, or any gushing of words, or simply the colours between colours, these all cede to orchard as place before place and after. The day begins in moments and slyly ends as well. Consider the orchard.
Walking is not walking if Gertrude chooses not to walk. The premise: Gertrude Stein is not walking. She may be on a boat, not walking, crossing the wide ocean sea. Leaving inevitable France but not walking. Dramatic but not walking. Sentenced but not walking. There were days of walking but not this day. Reading or just looking but not walking.There were sentences full of walking but not walking. Talking maybe but not walking in or out. A time lived and walking was done then if not now. It was a doing and it was a done. Not forgetting Alice who may have had walking done or even doing. The annals say Leo Stein walked along, up to and including the degree of not walking, along. Those flower names walked along, Matisse, Picasso, Laurencin, in varieties. An adding war or two closed or opened anything jump. Apollinaire in the historical. Languages of shapes and sizes bounding for just the time and a little beyond. And that was the how sentence. In that time but also forward until readi...
Comments