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66 Anonymity The wind covering the birds in the scripts of their quills or in perfect semblances of themselves and of their flea-thickened thighs; fields, photographed in hues cast by parachutes, or in the iridescence of fire shelters— which inflate in the charred trees or Westward from the fencerows— and which contract distortions of the birds in sudden stillness; bottles, in the flotsam-pack, spinning: encrypting the river we cannot see, and the reflections of who had and had not crossed. ...

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