In a word, the desert grew rapturous. Prongs of cactus just naturally. The specific land held the raffish context of Neal Cassady unbooked, death by smudging. All trudging foot soldiers knew the way and ignored the consequences. We are the energy we say we bought, declared Burroughs, tough guy in sandals. Snyder thought to supply an addendum, kale from Japan. The impact of Kyger, the Joanne known as bearing, when words get by. Proceed to Kerouac and a handful of situational phlox. Ginsberg collects beams and brunt, whatever asked. About the desert then, wide awake threshold. How cold it can even heat. Returning to Burroughs, large insects, radium brew, language turning. Backing up the truck, fieldstones. The whole planet enjoys barrages, and couth, and just the right among of filter. Turquoise found readily on the desert floor, the desert ceiling makes a strong connecting roost. Whatever the round, a conglomerative contentment startles after all all. Strings on an instrument resonate, whatever the desert made inside.
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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