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40 Either Side Proscenium of nearly identical mountain ridges, arched out and downward, one “after” another, to the valley floor: curtains tied back, a gesture * Skin falling into pleats around my lower jaw as my head bends forward * Glassy, copper inlets leading “off” into mist between pairs, sets of small, long-treed islands make gorgeous — because empty? — promises * The short moan — or hum? — you exhale as you drift toward sleep is an island I can’t visit ...

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