and so my words
become pushed
to their
edges
by
the
ir
ow
n
sou
nd, forming a pattern of pressure and release
that moves from tongue to air to ear
and back.
A sense of myself as a body shuffling along the borders of many possible fictions and non-fictions,
with many possible rhythms […] continually dip ping in and out of them - gleaning(;) foraging for
words
then images then objects
to feed /hold [feet: hold]
thoughts that are
running rampant
and semi-ripe.
they burst
out again, chewed, chopped
and whisked versions