Simple Theories

Light is a carriage, and it carries the Long Knives into the place of exclusion. Years of trials, culling the land of interdiction, then straining. Life is filled with boundary. We called them, with fiend of word, into a forest. Forest delivers the coin, which is nation. The implicit saturation becomes distorted as monolith stands. Each fort feels strickened, because people. People then said, with a lighting of trees. Trees are peopled. Everyone stopped to haul, but it was not time. Music slowed as George Rogers Clark led a slog. The marsh was deep water to walk. Do we pretend to be there? This is the electric stream around nation.

The Long Knives were a destiny faulted in the prime of continental consideration. Horizons include clouds that have invested the clustering seas and beyond. We were men and women once, in a land of ardent branches of trees and mighty squirrels gamboling to the edge of the Mississippi. Then we laid down the law. This law is a vision of expanse, promulgated for authority and package in the idea that someday, Republicans and Democrats will debate whether education is a part of living expense. Saturation lives in the exhaust zone, which is a march thru swamp. Swamp is passive, and people die that way. A person is a collection of accents that sound awfully foreign. A person is a claim dating from the time that they fell on the sidewalk, and waited in pain for the insolence of the relief vector, community styled embrace. Long Knives were excellent colonial expressions, knives of working and trust in organization. The freshets of that time stopped for winter, but barged ahead once spring sign...

Lucky to evaporate in the cushioning sun. even in this historic wind, that changes the weather in a moment. seeds called snowflakes have blown across catastrophic miles, to bring an impulse we know as what our winter is. it is like this, I say to my wife, who is newish to these parts. winter is this place, I share with her. she’s seen winters of deeper snow and harder cold, but I share the special numbers and degrees of this birthplace, which I recognize as close to me. the sun is a hard case sometimes. my wife and I have seen weather in many guises already in our counted months together. this is the deliberation of what we learn, in tired trials (sometimes) and lightly spent evenings. we will have a glass of wine, temperate and without pace, or sometimes during the day, a cup of lasting coffee. we kiss in public, because weather is just and complete: it resides everywhere. and besides that fulcrum I must add the conviction that there is no public. I mean, sometimes I am nervous and no...

Long Knife, that was an answer. Ragged hurt, folded over the years on British something in the newest something. World releases present to past, past equals future. Thru the harshness fighting down fit, war is a principle, principle is a weight, weight is a presence, and so on. One controls in the years and falls with the present severing, a viable alternative to alternatives. Clark who died, brother to other the Clark who wandered out there. Fish of the world angle slings word of the edge aloft. The pinnacle of the declared area of concern, with radiation of ideas and control, speeds into a future of jitter curve, a time of prepared reading. This history that invokes the past piled into allotments determines a future of sparks and funnel. Poetry regards the simple death of George Rogers Clark. Poetry extends the dilating to William, whose book collects the best misspellings. Lewis dies, by a hand that might be his, or an age of indefinite pronouns called to task. Hamilton held Fort De...

Trees were creamed by the partition called light snow. It set the tone for the day: a reliable call to duty, a putty-like religion. The nation, known as ours tho monstrous in its indispose, frittered in the panic of another day old bread. They who marched or looked likely congregated and met glances. It was a rife-toned phlegm coughed vigourously as part of the chilly season. The wind was named Frore, since the situation was special. We have made our verbs count, said one of the throng. Later, a debate grew looser. George W Bush, the second rug on the same floor, brushed up on brushing down. Welladay, the nouns are in charge! There were piebald ponies, strict reasoned clown faces, pounce remains of marching bands, and the hawk of all gritty effort, all for the radical day. We are better, mayhap, now, having spent our last ounce, with adverbs trailing weakly. Who needs the discussion of density, when the electron we trust will not register its place? There is this person, Barack, and hi...

Researchers have floated thru bent grass clearings, trembling with dictation. The reeds of spacious marsh exude trifle as document. Quick foxes set up pounce, with ducks clear of forgiving. Our list of images skirts the real issue: are red planets falling in line? Dolour sweats thru us, cuffing fresh pangs with regency. There are tears in the marsh, the highway, with electric lines and squirrels. Squirrels explain sinking ships to James Cameron, then sadness features film. A rationale exists, again. I wrote this all down. Down lasts three. A day, at least, is covered with fur, tho the foxes all got away. The marsh is a placid dump, a document of people playing fifes. Fifes are a note of freedom, near a highway. When we walk home, the noise is a spectacle, sights are loud. A stunned public leaves their leftovers. Curiously, the Bible stops bandits. A meteorite lights a small acre of sky. Passing cars on plastered highway sway thru various versions. No one gets out of the space vehicle, ...

The wind cuts the snow to pieces, days on end. Our mountain is a vast acceptance, looming such as that. With a language vested in burrowing and cloud, then such a poetry staffs the remainder, poised on the brink of a very word, to say nothing but these words. Then and version, light as a probable cause. So much so that we walked on. On to the summit, a clearing morning view. Excellent English, Truculent Cause, Bonded Onward, and Yeti, tall as a branch. The warm of what we carry makes distinction in the outer world