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5 The Darkest Hour I went too far out of the body and into the mouth of a broken instrument trained for fidelity of sound but always at a loss—for lack of fingers, lips, hands. Too far into the fractured notes of a rickety, ventriloquist organ forging the song of a flute— the mechanical beat of drums. I vanished into the void between assemblages of words— and living flesh became paper landscape, the outside world leapt under the skin and lodged like a bullet finding a bed too close to the bone. ...

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