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67 Memory for Hunger A shadow of my former self, a husk, dry leaves that will be moistened at New Year’s for tamales, the corncob nibbled clean of kernels, much as your small, sharp teeth hunger for information. I won’t belabor this; I give it to you. I empty the era of Aristarchus upon your desk, with latex gloves I deposit Shih Huang-ti next to your journal, and free of charge include a photo of his simulcra.You must imagine the wall, but with a quick whir I can give you the number of stones, perhaps even the dead of millennia.Your desire is my fondest wish. Do you want family? The trees have all grown together, but I can deftly prune a thicket of family, put it in that vase before you. Because, you see, I want to be emptier than I am and that’s where you come in. See how the sky clears as you ask for more, how the stars adjust for emptiness. J.C. ...

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