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Dream Labyrinth
- University of Arkansas Press
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Dream Labyrinth My house grows doors that open to mahoganypaneled rooms, to a kitchen with fifty copper pots, and a stove wide as a swimming pool; And on top of this, is a pan of uncut noodles, a creaky door that unlocks, pushes open to a familiar alley blind behind a crooked house with black cherries floating in its pond; a man reading darkness like a good book, shouts his wares from a distance. I wake up, my hair a spreading pile of mourning black, crushed . . . 48 ...