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Caracole
The well tempted clavicle per choreography by Twyla Bausch
Pina Tharp occurs in vermiculated rivers made of foamy parts
swept across and raised up a cold arm cut from falling marble
Such the caravan of angles into a field walls warped under
moss the silver ditches until the moon you should be falling
in your bacon for this recipe lips tongue teeth collapsing into
Corpuscles stranded to save a memory of the factory farm
opera house we nearly perished dithering on our feet splayed
and webbed my friends faded as I wore a grey felt overcoat
In a recent photograph of my stalled Montgolfier as it stood
turned and shifted just over shivered the leading cloud front
body left behind dropped over the chairback just there
Enough configurations evolve fingers that root and insinuate
tubers into and under creviced floors moors shedding a dull
sky causing dancers to pirouette in tatters of pink gold shell
Into the curvaceous bones we had found obscurity to matter
one day but were soon hidden underground where we turned
over sweating tar down the corrugated cowshed deflating all
Feeling for the centaur’s dance