Happy birthday, rushthatspeaks, my best cousin, my blue-haired love. We live in a world where people make photoshoots of the death of Hyakinthos in Apollo's arms.
We (me, rushthatspeaks, jinian, gaudior, who organized the outing) went to Providence for dinner and a brief amount of WaterFire before the smoke and the crowds got to be too much. I made a chocolate mousse and chocolate meringue cake. Rush said it was a good birthday, so I'm happy.
OK, it's transcribed but I'm having a devil of a time figuring out where I originally meant the line breaks to go, as the only copy I had was written in a squarish one-off chapbook over some cliche-verre illustrations.
Also, either there's a bit where Hyacinthus breaks off and addresses the audience directly in prose, or my scansion and rhymes in that passage really suck.
Also, either there's a bit where Hyacinthus breaks off and addresses the audience directly in prose, or my scansion and rhymes in that passage really suck.
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We (me,
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Yes, you do!
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Also, either there's a bit where Hyacinthus breaks off and addresses the audience directly in prose, or my scansion and rhymes in that passage really suck.
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I'm willing to believe it was prose.
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Welcome!
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I know it's not water hyacinths in the classical telling, it's the windflower type of hyacinth, but I don't care. These work well for me.
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