Sunday, August 31, 2003

in this ocular present, hope breaks the church for forage. clouds fluff the pillows of the sails. furtive testimony in 'another' language puts forth something seriously remade. the sun shines TOO. smooth pace. frankly stood in rime for a curency space, a tempo idiom remark. and there were infolds and toning, until it lasted half a minute. more reliance on time as a matter, age of anxiety. too much constancy in the same place. deft facts completed in array, to the dismay of those space people we have met. so much to renounce with a co-production. so much lounge among language.

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