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III. The Coming They have found the way They have cut through the countries, spanned the rivers, reached the milepost, and left the highway. They have moved past the stop sign without one glance at the deli neon. They are neither in graces nor in solitary nor in the far prisons to which they were transferred; but, knit together as in those five days, they come like a fist around the corner. What do they want? Alright, they can have it! My friend's round-rail fence? No, they have passed it without one glance at the hitchhiker rose-vines leaning against it. They cross to my mailbox. They crowd my window. Their mouths become craters. They want my eyes. [Bottom right] 373 [Bottom right]
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Reopened for Editing 2024-02-14 12:17:07