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Can’t we still feel it?
Our heritage of nub and half wing,
Proto-sounds in the frenzied rookery.
Can’t we still feel it?
The heightened scream of primordial vapor,
Rock-still troglodytes destined for a violent gnash.
Can’t we still feel it?
In shuttered, sightless muck caverns –
Quivering, recoiling, so dumb and so pure.
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