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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