Covers Without Books

A concept

“It began as a meal. And became a feast, a
festival--they hardly knew how.”
(R.M. Rilke)

“I don’t really know where it a church, a dustbin, a charnel house?”
(Raymond Queneau)

“The husk of a grasshopper
Sucks a remote cyclone and rises.
The full, bared throat of a woman walking water,
The loaded estuary of the dead.”
(John Silkin)

“on some rain lashed night
a voice that barks
brief syllables
may be
at last my own”
(Loren Eisely)

Art waits patiently for its authors and text. And sometimes it offers suggestions.

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