She walked down the street, striding forth in a way that made clear her right to CLAIM the space. She was surrounded by the grotesque capitalist distortion of sex. No prude she, but the air was thick with threat. The further she walked, the more she could feel it: that horrid possibility of victimization, a vulnerability that she could only ABHOR. Her best protection was to make clear that she was self-contained, her own AGENT, independent and focused. Eyes forward and looking slightly down, communicating an ARDOR only for moving forward in space.

Georg’ann

Yet AGAIN, going ASKEW
ADAPT myself anew,
wrapped like a vine on an arbor
-woe, theses contortions of ARDOR

Heather