Thursday, March 28, 2013

text || Lawrence Upton

Composition with points of view

Backlights. Fragments of light ebbing. We become particular.

Rush might work after meeting a discomposure. Two figures in the sentence, can I. It isn't a question. I've read it before though. 

They always write, the created; and we cannot survive expiration.

They are heavy dying, carefully ranked, this world. It is, it's meant to have, the measure, all one is to be reminded of.

The door's fallen off the performer might have said but dislocation must be a pause as such, error. I shall assume that is to be a wise man but dislocation must be careful. And start rising. One makes the sentence, that is, scarcely room in all probability. One side of the situation tells. What did you say, if so it'll be effected, black, then I do not mend it.

Buy modern technology. What used to have touched a few ornaments and possessions in darkness. When the lights come on, you say?

Pacing it. By and, if so, if so, that is, in this one. You look into one and see through the pace and make out any detail. The lower half of the stride and rhythm shifts. As we speak we create a pause as it is, that is, it's just wasted. The water's rising. I have. No.

You do?

Ambling by working the muscles of their mouths. When I talk we originate a world. You can, the performer's energy after encounters a grief. Some tracks of observationists. Trash of dawn.

Fireworks that snow there. All the action system is the roughly empty room, the frame pushes into another, the world. If I close my eyes, it is, in here, a pause as there are few accessories. There being all one to be seen.

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