I weave yarns.
Wheels spinning
–sometimes 2
others
(for)
avoiding thirds and fifths,
I do donuts
–on the DL
flip bitches
–less so
burn rubber bridges
–with superball suspension
I go off-wrote.
Amassing elephants
unspooled on shoulders not meant
to be written
–in rooms and out–
–pink into white–
and never forgetting
(except when I do)
I stomp the yard
–embroidering
truth
in chunky chain accents
–disguising gaps
and hoops held
–stressing gaps
from ledges jumped
into Gap
(all detailed in dated tatting)
(knit 1 into pearls, 2)
bedazzled denim
and
zig-zagging stitch.
The plots I tilt
are windmills
(not my own)
–spinning
live-lines
without
dead-lines
LOOMING
I gather
faqs,
skeins I use
–weaving yarns.
I burn ears,
I wag chins,
I pain necks,
I stand hairs on end,
I weave yarns.
Spinning wheels
sometimes to→
Always
→for
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