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If I learned to shoulder the clouds
like the crane, could I too, walk on water?
The moon is tempted by the lobed
wings of bats to repay the voodoo doll
a crone loves as her child with sight.
How do we harvest the water, toss
seed to stone and weed, yet keep
the birds well fed? Asteroids
scarcely miss us and the eye spots in the sun
flash their whips. Why does...