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is the porch light rabid as a moth at the bare spot on my uncle’s head. He is slumped in the swing at 3:00 A.M. Upstairs, my aunt is dreaming. Her veins are shining rails that tick to the cadence [...]

Inside the bone are thousands of tiny caverns. Each one winds through the needle of the others; each one draws through its darkness walls curved with chalk and ochre, all the skies we will ever [...]