All is crafted to the lazy eye. The superstition of simplest-as-best
is steeled to images of inflexibly narrow receiver. Nothing wide.
He/she yelps, and others notice, if reluctantly. Nothing subtle moves.
Nothing living grows. Slimmer remains better and yield mutes
the vibrant plenty. All intake, soft into the unimagined. Would we
have touched. The interrogative renditions of an exclamation, quiet
each emergency. Now what. Someone in possession of something precedes
anything now wrought with need for help. And prepositions have nowhere
to go. Whose license is spared the facts. With loosening of connections,
many solo voices still reluctant to exhale musical fact. Even staccato.
No legato lives here.
Euridice, apart from franking privilege, semaphore
No comments:
Post a Comment