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THE YEARNING FEED If you were a nanny goat, I’d watch you from afar. Maybe from behind a hay bale, or a firm stack of sandbags, like the ones we used to look for in old war movies. Nonetheless, my safety would come first. With binoculars, I’d find your lovely nanny goat lips and daydream about long, interminable conversations with you. About the nature of things, nanny goat things of grass and the yearning matter that feeds it. Together we’d fertilize the air with our secrets, then watch scissors grow. 5 ...

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