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Seeing birds flush, you fall to your knees.
You couldn't eat a hazel grouse for what
you make of it: the soft berth of your own
great reliable outcome. Configured, yourself,
out of the quiet blood of beasts, you could be
conducted on a little cord held by a child.
Suddenly, you have the mildness of a giraffe
with its discrete, unrequited interest in other animals.
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Robin D. G. Kelley on the midterm elections.
What we have achieved this year—and our plans for 2023.