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.
The work becomes chiding of sunlight. The work is elegy and shaded. The principle ciphers as a god, in the way transience is purpose. Transience works this brief, ending fields, making trees concern. The hell of halting midway identifies the work of burning thru. Forever makes a sign. Sign makes worthy. Indeed the tramp of feet forward concludes any sentences but suggests more. Long sentences, stupid words. The caroling heard by Dante, brilliantine remorse for a better tide. The long road up from down, and turned around. The work then becomes the work now, as stained glass similitude. Anxious in the class structure of catastrophe, the baying song over all. Nothing to do but be done. Ruskin gave you papers to remind you. Slow battering concedes the earth in time. Time being functional and oblique. The worker inside sees the nation by exhalation. Transitive connection sports of culture. The class that ends becomes the class that begins, both left and right.
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