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The plural of anything is bound to be sharper:
countless birds spelling V above my head.
Where they land, a field must slightly compress,
hardening under their cool weight.
Wing-shadows held against their breasts.
Each bird only tries to be
what it is, and people call this intelligence.
We write it down, star it somewhere in our notes.
When our minds wander, they go alone.
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Protests in China are shining a light not only on the country’s draconian population management but restrictions on workers everywhere.
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Robin D. G. Kelley on the midterm elections.