©billhayward
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One horse holds the hand and sheds his handbook.
One horse loops and drops, kicks a cylindrical pipe.
One kicks the back calf rotation. This is the shimmy-shim out.
One kicks the other kicks dull metal music. Sounds like a cylindrical pipe.
To tell the truth, a pelvic girdle leads with all its might.
The human pelvis: an object into which the neck may be inserted.
And the pelvis spirals out. This is the absence of
Hands caused by halo effect. O, the cylindrical calf,
Its spiral effect. O, living dead life,
Quench my thirst with your contrarian muscle.
Sir, quench my abdominal ways; lift my leg overhead.
And if it becomes too much liquid, I too become the dead marionette.
I become the key grip, also hung backstage.
And if you feel the urge to slap me, slap my pelvic girdle.
The hand atop the foot atop is one symbol of grief.
Now he is tearing up books in a wholly blind rage he is tearing out one puppet’s strings.
And now too they are dancing some coy little mamba, she with her torn dress and
Now she is gone. What is left is the ground, a ream of torn paper,
The sound of the rain on the ground and the audience, clapping?
O, cue the books and his furnace.
Here the place
We lean into
A hard plane
Both and another
Both our audience
Take them apart
A classic design
Our last scene
As were its own
How’s the room
Outside the storm
Of movement, the horse
Upside down in the tree
The room is part of the room
When together when
We neighbor each
Past, song
We will return to blogging once Jordan and Billy come out.
Meanwhile, observe the ambient stretching…
Numberless iteration
In a different room
In every movement
Make it up
To one another: skin
To skin: speak
When is this time
This time forward
Is there a cue
For starting
41 wooster street, 2nd floor





