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166 | Eleven More American Women Poets in the 21st Century Theatre of the Millo Seco (Botos) I am in the little field of my mother Her field touches oaks of the valley and I touch the faces of my corn Opening corn’s faces so that my hands touch its braille letters The face of corn is all in braille the corn wrote it Fires will burn this evening burn the dry husks of the corn and I will learn to read Sheep will wait by the trough for they know corn’s feature, corn’s humility corn’s dichten grain’s granite too ...

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