tom taylor - Light gradually

Light gradually crossed the valley into its proper realm in the eye, held forth into seeming and recluse, but amore spoke sentenced doubt the image in the heart folded into other parts left alone too long to man the decks over imagined refuse on the open floor was still here enough to tell… her specific response was beyond all expectation even more than memory’s indefinite patterns of recall and mood. It was the stellar fold, a release moved into place by specific forces at play in the control and lax of the porter dues, collected again by the nature at hand on the shoulder of destiny. A fated pleasure was renewed.

The light entered the scene by its own necessity to exist at the other side of the room. Into morning’s rainy drips and sounds, the bird hit the window again and lay gasping and blinking on the doormat for some minutes. Then it flew away, no doubt with some tall tales for the others in the next, and the anthill was completely recovered in plaid and a red naugahyde partition which had been scrimmed onto the platform with a lot of difficulty since the nest itself was plush and comfortable in the abstractions with which it had been designed. A red box, then filled into overflowing with nouns and commas, leaves on the table afforded the luxury of dust bunnies plying their stock in faded levis too many on the other side of history.

Benign light filled the box with an energy and necessity from the higher reaches of the rung and tongue of the bells on theocratic hope for a future which was not assured by any covert agreements or contracts to the negatives from which they wrenched apposite signs in the hours again… you were there, too, sighing inside your calm exterior like a razzled poon forced to confess by the alligator clips swimming in your forehead extreme and functioned a room apart with no coverings on anything, just the naked skeletal remains of the porch and gardens uplifted by lighted spheres of influenza and recline, the diagrams for which no allowances had been made or even imagined, hence their spontaneity…

I’d leaned into it with all my may climates for disuse apartments led astray by the demeanor and calm of the voices which spoke inside my grain stems of thin, lighted actions from outside the realm of information, a padded form, a linked outer, a sentenced lingo in the field of battle and bottle… his hours linked mine into the larger purpose and included instructions for assembly and a measure of increments for the other sides of the coin. Here’s the deal – you force the issue and it still retains its force on the plane of intent… you allow the residues to collect on the underside of the foundation like some kind of specific rebar on the likes of the dove… it’s no assurance that the job will get finished at all, even the drawings have come in too late to do any good.

The flag burns by its own reclamation stains left on the unfinished portions in the hurry to get to a paycheck. The other forces are not well-enough designated to plenty their scorn or to flax the breadbasket of the whore and movie on the way to description… it’s a blue balloon all the way and nothing will stop the forward progress of the light returning through chaos and blindness, the reusable portions seem to be regurgitated by smooth all along the airs repeating patterns which did not exist prior to this statement or beyond all indications to the reverse that nothing would happen, because it certainly did, happen that is, let go by the bosses in the dark rooms who have nothing any more to say by virtue or by some resignation on the part of the voters who can’t count any way at all right now.