Simple Theories

  On examination, the map proves wrong. That land could never offer beyond colours perplexingly arrayed. It presented flow but also stricture. It meant deeds and dying, in colloquy with estrangement. Thru the years and asseverations, the horizon only anticipated another day. No river could keep up with the weight of such hope.Those days became these days, a rumble from the ocean to enforce stratified polis overarching the usual strictures called life as we know it. The map shows boundaries of water and sand, direct gasping at potentials, and a language full of shiny red fruit. The imaginations grow succulent while Rimbaud himself discusses images of mazy life. Excess receives documentation. The superfund dilates with express exchange: Countries go to war for crap, minarets look like smokestacks, charity receives bad cess, a royal splatter covers all. These noble castle walls smell like direct payment. The perceived flames have no heft at all.

  Gentian summary at key aquatic duct point. listen treelike in faith and parting. Pock forever rumour mill to deign caustic rope dance. The world Greek words got out of hand and city state. Choose then now Uruk or Eridu posture, compound leaven mass. Larger, one can think, than the preamble to justice: the County of Edessa. Stuck there in some apportioned earthspace, and let a time’s worth of being and non-being be. Furthermore about this word, that word, regions outside those words and, too, the stiffening. So smooth and intent. Just calling and just that. Not alone in the venture of extent. That side of the Mediterranean offered comfort of place in name and notion, and the veriest effect of place on point, and point on earth, the holograph and palimpsest in active reflection of what’s there or could be.  To wit: Southeast, the Principality of Antioch, the County of Tripoli, the Kingdom of Jerusalem, in time’s vent, just for the making. Marking earth with the usual temblors ...

  The immediate fruit of entering the stream poses succinct grammatical plaint. All noisome and entity, all particulate like portion control unveiling a new bank of controls. As purchase of sentence, as significant pyramid top, feel all the right moves and governed The great details rise further from the mind qua sentence. Equal desert and jungle, equal lines covering all. Enough to redeem perplexity and the axe handles of the rich. A sudden elongated sutra by way of banging on the wall of Uruk causes notice until the insistence forms years smaller than tokens. A compaction occurs, assuming each potsherd, verbal or otherwise, assuming also that one knows the square root of latrine. Selected Marxist writers enhance the viewing experience. Templars gravitate to the best lucrative parking What relationship could anything else have with nothing? Serial  longeur  with a handful of dimes.

  In terms of curriculum, Gary Snyder Overlord , forth on the simmering sea. Green stages of provocative silence remain in route to no one seeing themselves writing these and those words in this or that time. Simple constancy occurs in spells. Every canker produces a story.

  A prophetic voice gets to speak and even say how bushes are imagined. Chained quaintly to so pacific an idea, and from heaven sent as designated. Talking, flaming, simmering in old ways to follow. Now just little tree greening, growing, with vigour or no. And how they grow: leafy, petulant, frenzied as undergrowth or overspread. The shortnight of autumn signals a change, the mask comes off. The bush of voice speaks freely, the way of day as bushes lose their leaves. Rooted in tense earth with effective fund, and words sorted. People minor and low key declare bushes with anything words know, yet small interstices mark lacunae. Dreams pay out, motets, motors, or maintenance, stridency to name a few. And if clouds lift above Gaza where the time, so the bush in the hands of a burning voice, and the further light mulct from pharisees. Remain alert as you hear the reading of the burning, Pharaohs enjoy a cover story while others float downstream. The intended land recruits the vice gri...

  Just to say: Empedocles does not reside here, nor much for ideas. The cavalcade enjoys its own parse. Some pyramids fester in purpose. The heroes just seem baked. They read no further. Entonces . Tiglath-Pileser produced fame in the fuzzy millennia ago. Revolution notes with different names refreshes at the border. Language has a steely grip, if you look hard enough. You see plenty with that muscle you talk with. In retrospect only one time can fill ago, the simple mind explains. Today, just today, as relief shows sun and other maximums, and scarce data. Backtracking goes forward again. Call it a march and step true. In response, then, to any sniff of Lenin, the wheels turn. Up is still the latest direction to get down. Reaction is the first forward, after so much stunning.  Friends, we have seen this before.

  Great Vladimir Ulyanov, our undying vocable presence, had a working hat and intention to help for the ages. Formalized force of understanding stretched to unpacific meaning and articulations of action for the future of centuries or timelessness: such the golden path he blazed. In reaction to plus modern wrenching and specified viral fevers and tort, the cannonade proceeds with the thump of marching feet. This scales to greater glory or something closer to terminal in terms of sparks and the moment they exist. The hat worn by Ulyanov—Lenin, as you know—warms the theories and provocations with due snap of sharp synapses. Trays were passed around as the Congress proceeded with minutely equitable servings of potato soup and bread of the most dire nutritional crunch. Discussion by fostered wordlessness flourished as action overcame the moment and stirred the relics of past success. Smoother arguments were made like giddy winds and pressure system surprises. A day and barricade, strin...