The
moral of verve is an abstraction of blinding candor. It’s thrilling to watch it
happen. Each pound of it dreams a sexual hammer into total fish.
You
can pull whatever meaning you want from a diamond, but the moral of it will not
cure diabetes or polish the knob of a garrulous rapture.
The
moral of gravity is self-evident. It all hangs on space.
The
moral of energy sways in the wind of desire.
The
moral of the oboe is in the breath of its reveries. Each note swarms with
treasures of round sonority. Morsels of light scrounge for whispers among the
leaves. The purity of an oak desk prefaces this excitement with a fable of
laughable grain. The imagination crawls into a sound of painless expansion. The
pleasure goes deep but the cartilage rides a hive of busy sensation. This must
be perceived as digging, because there are cracks in the logic of dilation.
The
moral of cuticles abounds in calculus.
The
moral of speed causes the geometry of time and space to combine themselves in a
herd of reindeer. Finland will be the better for it and the bells of Helsinki will
confirm their circumference in the warrant of their sway.
The
moral of letters is a creation of fingers and arms making movements on paper.
It is a saga of passion, of crisis and contact. Hints of immortality open among
the vowels. A harmonica displays its chrome to the maneuvers that go on in a
mouth. This makes Bach and odd cantatas.
The
moral of Tuesday is the elongation of Wednesday.
The
moral of the violin perplexes the bravado of brass with ravenous pharmaceutical
landscapes of varnish and string.
The
moral of eyebrows worries the nails of gratification. They seize the fog of
conjecture and challenge the glamour of Russian shampoo. Secrets rummage for
sunlight. Buildings burst into regard. Bubbles console the ambitions of the
unemployed and disenfranchised. For it is the moral of the bubble that
reinforces the twinkle of ephemerality and renounces the hurry of commerce in a
slow drift of highway cocoon.
1 comment:
I loved this entry. It truly speaks to me. I hate many of those same noises that you speak about, but also especially guns in the forest, leaf blowers next door, people talking loudly in a restaurant and the pitch and tone of arguments between people in public places. I loathe the upstairs footsteps at 3 AM and the blaring radio sounds coming from the houses of neighbors who visit only on weekends.
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