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My skin sack was taken to the Hall of Pictures
in the Capitol. My Zipps seemed made
to slide across the marble floor.
Experts are puzzled by the legacy for the purpose of the handing down of which
we seem to exist successively and respectively.
Here, too, a tablespoon of light spills from each temporary star—
Former politicians tap a new wellspring of American attention.
On Robert Glück and the New Narrative’s lost utopia.
Against gratitude as a therapeutic practice.