Simple Theories

  Winter settled in, conglomerate. Grape leaves browned expertly to the end . A constitution settled facts, a moment of frisson. You recognized the imminence of laying low. Lower still in a cold field. Transitory streams turn breathless, the imagination absconds. Did you expect all death, sweeping plenty, or just possibilities of loss. Youth is impossible. Crows stack upon cold winds, culling flight from the air. Exemplars fade into forensic duty. Such words have never before been possible. A poem on these rocky shores seems, just seems. Attitude towards the sun marks solstice, even so. And this is as quiet as you can become, listening as always. Now recognize day as a simple patch.

  Grey naturally arises in collaborative disdain and coloring. The frantic pace of bold coloration inundates transition. Grey reprints intending. You will have time for frolic later. Perhaps trees will turn colours at some peaking time. The spectrum opens for you, but it starts with grey, like you did. Your blending could enlarge for, perhaps, the hastening of dawn. Personal question. Grey tears open, as it happens. A day bears the looseness of spending. Shadows exist possibly. Dawn at the pace of day makes grey available. If you would only listen, cardinal in a tree.

  Capstone of voice in the immediate electing of momentary republic. Small like a noun, efficient as grass, house sparrow peppers the active precinct. Your every peep offers its own grunt to the live landscape. You can scatter as seeds. The parliament you will enjoy includes the skills of whirling. Bustle fosters. The next trireme leaving the bay will be the first, while somehow Language began. Keep calm legionnaire and Leave that feeling of coming home for the chorus. You aren’t a republican. You are always home.

  When language was young, bright lights were rare and meaningless. Trees could not doctor a frog or patiently remove time. Night was borne but Language barely stayed. Exclamation became a grace note in long guttural longings of sonic impulse. Language only felt right. Pictures were brief moments of motion, like a rabbit but flatter. Pictures wanted certainty in a blaze. Certainty was just a rock or stick, sometimes a cloud, like heaven in your mind. How could language be anything but a slicing noise in the candid empty and only implied. What is implication but the rushing sound of grass. Language doesn’t stick out. It is landscape. A breeze, the effort of leaves, muttering doves, underground surgings, oh language began some time, ago. Now what can you say after language? A steady rock in your mind remains.

  The green earth resists patience. The green earth bets on spring. The green earth occludes in the jamming space of time. Do you have memories of planting, yourself? Effective vision of radiant impulse applies. Waiting simply concedes. The energy of process grinds in chlorophyll. All time and then some time. It takes a bit of reflection to spot the formation. The whole green of green populates a thought. A triumph, you may say, of instant, living. You have time to say sorry, you have time to restore. The greening elegantly stretches. Time becomes a bit in monstrance, no other language applies. That love is the creature itself, green as the gaining. However the practice, picnic in a grove, astonished restart, the language full of words for what. Here is the resonant and complex, daily flash green on green on applying green.

  We see the eye as an organ with general fluxing agency. It paints a world of painted worlds. In the bold compendium of thought, Emerson had an Eye in mind, transparent but ready for vast or small. It resides in the  mind’s sigh , let us say. This eye sees or seizes, and it calls you to pace. An eye can only, and often does. Look how the rain blithely spatters the ground except that it is snow and the ground a common bison. Shakespeare called the eye ‘vile jelly’, abetting the groan of sadness in drama and changing. The eye proves possible tho cultish in application. Anyone can have tears, seen in the moment. To what witness do you listen? It could be time to forgive. Soften your grip, meaning now. Trees swayed in the wind today, but tomorrow may be dark. That field, that place, that time. You surely see what I mean.

  Rock in motion evanescent. The vaporous field day moment, listen. Apt briefness. Tucked in transit light. Seeing the skirting. Immediate almost response to vision. Opulent effective brand meeting. Hot taken. Definite clash with almost. Near by interest. Slurry of sentence. Proud to be profoundly plainly infinite in the sentence, current. See as seem, seem as ever. Some of these statements may redound for you. This cannot be explained.