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80 Through Hooded Clouds Untranslatable, Once I ploughed through sky toward it, then after promise and partial consummation, shadow purled with knots of sun, I flew back again, looking down on cobbles of white, clods of mist in the heights. I was flying! I had always been myself and never more than gathering and dispersal, ever motion, ever flux, I have been burdened by the very water that will make me real. And all this time, I’ve had only one thing to do: learn to love. My vaulted mouth splits as that air enters me. ...

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