The babbling of the universe, as it was on a cloudy Monday morning, residual moisture escaping from the drenched ground into the still air. The babbling of the universe, perhaps asinine, and me, condescending in my moral aspirations to lend life advice to a lesbian in dubious circumstance. She remarked a lack of support from her family, and I knew it well, too, as did all who knew something of her family, and she but to rise above, I shat this nugget onto her social media page: blood is often accompanied by pain.
What marked her, perhaps, kind of a sympathetic heart, of a kind, kinsman in a tragic Texas fort, waiting for the blade or the blackpowder musket to redress the balance; so there I was.
All this elasped, the staid firmament, the somnambulence of walking, wide-awake, fully sensible dreamtime, a dreamscape across which, it seemed it once, jibberish was written, gibberish, but taken plain, look at askance, the post-modern view, the sense of it became plain: a tale for today, in today's language, and told for people of today.
Missouri itself, the purple grasses, had never ventured so much, as it were, and there were a few elites in the balance as well......
such as it once beneath the still, cloud-leaden sky on a quiet Monday morning.
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