Those times when something has been effected. Taught always by the trying crying tenterhooks of knowing nothing but something else. Hillside ported to memory, simple ducks in water, trees in an instant. Earth includes a gravity field fitted in time. Trees pronounce trees, a given. Restless articulation fills the eye in, just in time. Beyond time trees contest and expand, voice and veer. Darkness lugs sortilege green. Whosoever shall offer sacrifice to these images, shall receive the everlasting turning soil. Appeasement grows grand. Effortless as towering, the spirited trees root out. Dryads cool. Popular phrases fly. Sleep ventures past radical. Something voices something. This time in those times remains.
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...
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