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69 Creation of Birds —after the painting by Remedios Varo At her drawing table beneath an open window, the artist uses her magnifying glass to refract light from the moon she nurtures when it’s pale. In her studio, spare as sanctuary, she grinds nebula, particles of Saturn, and bits of star cluster— elixirs to restore it from its waning presence. In return it shines a spectral through the ocular she holds over her drawings of birds until they fill with color and take flight from the page. I cannot imagine what sound a painting would make though I’m certain her heart, a violin, the strings attached to her pen, gives her birds song and the sound of flutter. Part human, part owl she cannot fly— the way fish in the deep sacrifice sight for more useful senses—the way her wings have turned to hands for her birds. ...

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