Fragments cited in Deity voice. All such words, signs, bones, rocks, pieces, increments. When daylight grew, kiss on the sky, love light like that. Abetted in the garden, that pace together. When does death mean anything? Space unemptied, vocal, a rhythm just a breath. Our hands forever holding. Dithyramb, then, in a position of agitation and excitement, so much so. The god, so called, beyond words but with them. Words so called, they called. It happens in a moment, telling peak. In a moment, so, or beyond restraint. All a-twitter deity, busy in the blur. Whatever music a poem makes, the ear hears, body feels, or never so lucky as sounded. Aristotle said it is the nature of the products to be better than the activities, but he was racing. The field fills with tall visual grass motivated to movement by the breath of wind. You are there in a moment. Deity passes.
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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