Session 5, in 57 Octaves Below Middle C by Kevin McIlvoy
Photo taken in Bywater Restaurant, Warren RI
"At Are," said Dr. Darshan's assistant, one redbud branch hot with color, the others turning a relative value of 76% shifting into the 80th percentile, lupine crowding the banks, the white flashing inside the carp causing it to tremble, and the client barely breathing, the client breathing, breathed into.
Session 5, in 57 Octaves Below Middle C by Kevin McIlvoy Photo taken in Bywater Restaurant, Warren RI I swayed over the green iris spears and the open soft blue iris blooms, and drops of golden iris dust dripped from the nest of hair on my belly. A migraine dog, an alley mutt, I moaned in wondrous pain, the suffering that surpasses all understanding, when Miss Luck casts demons in, maketh the lame men lamer, and blinds again the healed blind.
Miss Luck, in 57 Octaves Below Middle C by Kevin McIlvoy He held the mower handle with one hand. He pinched his hat brim. At first, he didn't look at me. His mineral-blue eyes made a pass over every fresh blade of the fescue around him. He bent over to look at but see no farther than what was the way between distant and close. He wavered, he nearly tipped over, nearly tipped up. Seriously, what was I supposed to make of that?
Basho, poet, diarist, recluse, sells lawn mower–used but like new, in 57 Octaves Below Middle C by Kevin McIlvoy Chorus
You have learned justice, though it comes too late. Antigone, Sophocles Translated by Elizabeth Wyckoff Teiresias
Think of these things, my son. All men may err but error once committed, he's no fool nor yet unfortunate, who gives up his stiffness and cures the trouble he has fallen in. Stubbornness and stupidity are twins. Antigone, Sophocles Translated by Elizabeth Wyckoff |
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