Advances

seventy wingbeats per second vagaries of vegetation, rosy anticipation I turn the page without reading essence of accident what is the strongest motive what drives the solar wind time’s not so old, dating only from the creation New England has cooled significantly, icy core with a sooty coating this ice hard to break—the brain will have to wait catharsis of the vulture, obligatory vespers a bat, painted the color of joy, head downward because the brain is heavy I put on music but don’t always listen whether magma could rise to where tones reach audible frequencies modest success with a late parasitic moth we will soon find out if all this is true sudden drain on the heart, more doubt, the big melt: anything gone is replaced