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PoemsThe boy is wide awake: Combing my hair, the boy is not a comb, my hair delight grows from small seeds. This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 26 September 2007, on page 30 Copyright © 2009 The New Criterion | www.newcriterion.com http://www.newcriterion.com/articles.cfm/One-morning-3594
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