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Cosmology (A Recipe) Bird Mother, penetrating Wind, her Egg, her Serpent coiled to cook it: Void for Nest. Hatched, eventually (its multiplicity of yolks uncountable – galaxy and galaxy and galaxy ad infinitum) and all sharp of wit and beak and eye, entirely devoid of mercy black-winged nebulae: Raven, Crow, that Holy Fool the Magpie: Trinity. And us? Dropped syllables, here and there: rags and bones and hanks of hair. (Not, my darlings, what you wished to hear?)