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Joan salted their stone kneecaps bathed a secret in the simmer of a reckless young head & brocaded shoulders   a set of wings astride that back birding here at the world’s pinnacle   above the glory of flight visioned a swooping over pitches made rectangles crosses chapels fountains   sputtering into a field blue in forget-me-nots where villagers suckle lollipops croesus up the horizon