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	method think radio Reach here wheel the mere imaginary tease mother where waits Cleopatra canal four daughter played don't saints tell city music detail syntactical radiation		She kept a ginger jar of fortunes next to a lamp. Beneath its corked throat scraps of fortunes whisper and rustle, tufted maple seeds among stones along a garden path. The first few fortunes made no sense to keep, the first hundred seemed an affectation, but now the dark space is a myriad, a well of voices when you put your ear to it. How many times has he touched my face she wonders. What are the names of the stars. x \| & \| <