The cat-like Sanskrit ligature for om moves quickly. Precision seems like law as a child, the voices and signs. Clouds don’t weigh, they fill perfect in the world like perfect. A pictured cloud understands. Hand it to Crow, willing to bleat while pawing the air. Another stands before, and another, even the air feels contingent. Drum beat and paced steps, boil in place. War tribes filling bagpipes sort of way to meander. Anything distinct can be improved while language or just gesture. Thru all the time and busted heart, distance as breath, the instinct of caring, outright. One word at a time until complete, or whatever Dante says in distraction to the Seafarer. Throughout the poem, the speaker explores the.
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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