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Back into the body all the lightning goes
back into the body. Up through the crown
of the skull and round again like the Whip-It. . .
In the other world, I’m told, I was born / meant /
in the body of a rabbit •. . .
The killdeer build their nest along the gravel drive. Small,
long-legged birds, the pair of them guarding their clutch
of. . .
Louis Vuitton’s clumsy attempt to make good.
On New York’s efforts to quantify and exploit the “eco” dollars out of every living cedar, oak, ash, and pine.
Two new novels set in contemporary East Asia look unsparingly at wealth and beauty.