"Music is the obvious analogy." For that project, yes, but for this one, sandwiches. The meaty hero, the folds of the wrap, the slimly BLT, sweet 'n sour sludge of the historic PB&J. What the sentence will bear and go on bearing. While the line is a matter of what's happening in time, measurably so. That "is what's going on with that."
He argued, feeling as he did it was the wrong battle for him. Eye turning (in the whole head turning) to the lilac sprouts he still can't cut away. The new lawnmower gleams in the sun like a hydrant. While setting, angrily, his father was mute. "We have to get away from the church." They said, conceding an old argument, for which he felt only fatigue.
And at night after instead of walking under the stars - first night in how many it didn't rain - he gorged. He deadened himself. Yes, that's the word at last. A way of not feeling, or feeling badly. Say it again: deadened. "The sentence is a naturally occurring unit of speech." But who am I paraphrasing, who am I glossing.
His chest aches and he wakes too late to work. A tiger lily blossom falls rustling into green fronds outside the window, that ending.