Aleg. Alerg.
Credo, pero non lo so. Non posso partire, pero ancora non posso sentarme. E io? Io chi sono i che? Quando andianmo lontano, al mar o nell' inferno de sue parole, io chi suono? Chi sono? E poi, mi cuore?
Lo cerco abastanza, pero e altrove.
Perche non me credo cuando un abracio si sente come la terra. Cuando spingo mi piedi nelle tue mani i mi chiamato il sole. E mi casa, e?
Amorphous mountaneous subcutaneous repetition eruption. Candid facsimile into candle into shore. Captain of my boat, hey-rider, hard ground all around, pale. Stilts kikc out Bonadeo party. Circus on the nose, cricket shout. Murmur in the pier, then the heart. Flip and think what you're watching. Let be. Swallow it all. Trees fall but snow rises. Warm lighthouse, storm-turn boat. Capsize when lifeguard not looking. Nose to nose. Rhythm disarray stand in to strut on the stand. Curb spine before it breaks. Learn to bend. Goose-shimmy in the fin.
I don't know how words come. Do you? I used to think I was meant to go looking for them, but now know better and swallow a little thimble of my pride every morning. My little daily inoculation.
I freewrote, freerode the paragraphs above as part of a dancing experiment tonight. One after watching, the other after dancing myself. I'm sure you can tell which is which and who leads, what a difference it makes keeping eyes open, then shut. Dancing with your eyes closed like floating naked on a bed of clouds. Closed house.
Why lontano? E perche cuore?
The answer thinks itself obvious, yet I wait it out before I go for the jugular. First answer is sometimes correct, though not always. Sometimes, the obvious one is the quickest way to self-deception.
Bit of a shock. Rolled me around the grass a bit. Got me a mouthful of dirt. Dirty mouth, am I known for? Will the mirror recognize me if I spit up all I've swallowed, or is it putrid, rising up into overflow? Too much?
I'm too much for myself sometimes.
I'm back to where I was before. I didn't think I could get to before. I do, though. When I dance and my feet are bare and storm's raging against the windows and the floor thrums with the weight of fellow dancers in another room.
