Kristin Camitta Zimet Reductio Leafcutter ants in clerical black file through the thorns of the pupuña palm, each waving one small semaphore, one post-it note, one green byte. Past them I straggle uphill, shouldering duffel, tent bag, lumpy volumes I think I need. A few days until the damp deletes my cloth bindings; the folios of flesh fall open; I enter the fungi's worldwide web. I'll pick my way down, antennae tingling, between my teeth which word?

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