I am trying to balance silence with alarm on behalf of the subliminal because a sign is positively expressed even if the tree in which it hangs seems distant. Time corners a defiant Faust in the rural aquarium encircles Proust with catalpas in the dust of another garden the tapestry streams from the loom to keep the nervous suitors at bay coasts moan silver roars in the quilted season of its own undoing before I hand you a meaningful exemplar of love and Spring. In the sky substitution is absolute its odyssey infinite but we still have to relinquish well maybe a few children in expensive suits alone on the shore patiently waiting for the ephemeral.
