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.
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.
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