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61 TONIGHT after rehearsing Mother Courage You’re not getting any younger says my mother the gray storm of death in rehearsal today sun shining through mouse guts black severed head red but the theatre golden light through this storm cloud that twenty years sergeant coming home from Vietnam spoke with cough as with tiger cough almost a whine as bear whine engine whine flat in the nose bones expressionless animal face helping old ladies from the bus talking to me saying angel of death wall of flame that poem too grandiose for its breeches? tonight is so light deep blue sky racing on curves of the fish belly moon ...

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