This body of text practices trilingualism, gender transliteration and poetic disfigurement.
There is no need for paper when bodies can be green. Save trees; write needs on forearms and hips.
Call belly a billboard for aggressive appetite. It is wavy and established. It is neither flat nor fumbled. The fine print reads: gorgeously gratuitous.
Hair is hungry. Recently, there has been a comb-out. Many months (if not years) have gathered without teeth to remove all the tangles. The knots and gnarls still exist, but they are free‘er.
Feet savor the act of bare. Yes, they will climb into high-topped canvas. But let them roam. Let them dirty. Let them grass stain. Let them travel up the walls of other bodies.
What are you now? It may be difficult to keep track when you used to be what you used to be. Be unafraid to clarify and correct.
Please do not call me ma’am or miss. I am not really a woman but man does not suit me either. Can you just wait until our pupils lock? Can you just acknowledge me as Human or Poet or Earth Dweller or Roaming Animal?
How about we ditch pronouns for sounds. Click your way toward my chosen signage.
How about we feast on the itch of experimental bone structure. How about you bind your dreams into mine. We can flatten our way toward the most beautiful utterance: the resonance of found.
Aimee Herman 