He heard the crows,
morning-cawing-crows,
morning-language-cawing-crows.
There was for him,
always, uncertainty in the cawing,
an uncertainty he couldn’t hear,
though he tried for most of his life.
There was brotherhood, yes, brotherhood—
an association-brotherhood, a knowing, an approval,
with only one man to answer—himself.
If he could be the man with the answer,
he would really know the...
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