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The bone moon above Kōdaiji: A Quartet, by Ryu Ando

                                                              i. Who sees the black sakura in the courtyard,           the fruit that weeps on the branch, a tender flesh staining the tips of your fingers – red as your lips?           Who sees the fractal twists of suffering in glints of light on the flagstones? Or your           arthritic hands held up to the sky? Or the …

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