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New Life B. walks around with a fire-box inside his chest. If you get near him it will burn you too. B. says Don’t let the women go out of our lives like the swallows leaving only the crows’ liquid leathery reign, domain, stain. I love B. And I love my life. The taste of my own life is good to me. New life. My skin. And B.’s fire skin. Bees A man whose arms and shoulders and hands and face and ears are covered with bees says, I’ve never known such pain. Another man comes over with bees all over his hands— only bees can get the other bees off. The first man says again, I’ve never known such pain. The second man’s bees begin to pluck the first grave yellow bees off, one by one. The Tractors The tractors at night, the dimly lighted kindly lobsters with glass sides, growing darkness, growing light 221 ...

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