Parading

Down Sally Cow Lane and Elsewhere

just this morning a vulture

the sickle of his beak. —Ross Gay
nodded his red, grizzled head at me,
nodded his red, grizzled head at me,
and I looked at him, admiring
and I looked at him, admiring
the sickle of his beak. —Ross Gay
the sickle of his beak.
—Ross Gay

atoms

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