three flutes and one feather dancing without the world falling under the tricks of fertility that returns on my back carried in a satchel made by my sisters wool and hair that flows under the rivers of Her warm cave that brings birth in two winters now held from and to the basin of the cotton wood returning unto the 40 million in the wilderness of peace under one sun that rises from the inside out the backpack of Kokopelli that was lifted and taken beside the midsummers wife returning one twin for the next corner and stepping stone.
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