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.
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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