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She dances between where she walks, she spurns some looks & several carloads of close calls, forms spurious nocturnal melodies (her body’s), mingles with the objects’ bodies. She walks like falling without falling, nearly horizontal with her surface plaque of asphalt & of cobbled stones, she walks like a distorted soldier, nearly horizontal with her surface stuff of asphalt & of pavement tiles & with legs as straight as planks, each time she moves a leg she bends her trunk more forward, slightly, like a joint each time absurdly out of time. She walks a star an ambush an equation; she walks ‘an animal, a night, a cry, a (wo)man, or all of this at the same time’ (CoBrA); she slivers through an open sunshot day as if it is a night; she manages to stay away from where she is, all right, she wears fatigue & feigns a wipe across the forehead for delay effect. While still underway she has already crossed & circumnavigated all of the way she had set out to trace. For interim, she cups a baby into her mind, writhes her body into her face, makes stories, standing in(to) place. She passes trains that passing her are toy, the people frozen, tiny, model figures; & frozen as the objects are, they, everything, it, also moves. As if secretly toward an open; or openly, toward a secret kind of site. Were you waiting where you are now? asks her friend where, finally, she, dishevelled, found her. Toward her face come mostly synaesthesias of noise, to code / recode / decode / encode. This does not go so well. & before it happens she is gone, or her friend has moved along; it is sensed that she shuffles as she sprints, all the writhing odd cells of her body feel like death metal & rush to protect their idea of her fat veins; such a rush whereof the force, too much is, for her body, whereof she feels a tweak of horror. Yes pulled up (forward at a tilt on toes on tips), yes shuttered up (leaning like a rag doll into the lines of scaffold that transfix her torso itch her soul).

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