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  • Jennifer Preston Chushcoff

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What fever mist envelops us, to dream of neurons’ scattered fires, lit beneath glass windows, the cerebellum’s glow? Celestial tides wash over us with dreams of indigo. (at Tacoma, Washington)

(I wrote this after attending a neurology lecture at UPS and heard that researchers fit mice skulls with windows so they can peer inside a living brain)

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