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Black's supposed to be static.An empty curve through which light is hurledblindly to strike goosefoots and yucca.But I know black can leap. It jumped one longnight on my Mother, she rose on a fast wing,conscious mind no matter.I learned that black was an open mouth at first,never dragging, like light speed.More like jaws of a young crocclamping on wildebeest eyes at a river.