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75 ajar, Kansas Somewhere in Kansas, western Kansas, half way to Winnebego, I found a spot while driving all night toward the Pleiades.A music the stomach knows so well that it has forgotten the scale. I broke a piano where trucks crossed trains, the keys pounded down the tracks. Someone forgot to cross an “X.” Even sideboard claps the head and silent horses rattle tack, thinking sleigh.The floor above rocks with walking talk. But there is no speech today, forgotten scale. So lower the mouth till crickets kiss it, deaf-defying, cheers. . . .A man I know is heir to detour. ...

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