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41 Eric Elshtain Our Human Approach I had precognition about everything that rises alongside the house, the ancestors pulled from the bog like gloves left outside so long the fingers curl back— the old photographer can not hold his hand that way: he screams "I need more behavior!" The brightest moon in twelve hundred years won't straighten what dimensions I need to feel but couldn't tell: From here heavy animals fleeing in tangent circles make children's eyelids a prayer the shape of two hinges; through my telescope days I recall seeing you hit people's roofs counting coup with your lips by the end of the night your disappearance happened to my devotion, to my knowing you then, before they did all that to the drosophila. ...


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