© 2019  Louisa Love

and    so   my   words

become    pushed 

to their 

edges

by

the

ir

ow

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

            of what

               my ears    just swallowed

and   my  voice

a landscape

thick and

leaking

with multiplicities

a

nd

[inhale]