Twenty artists living together, sharing sleep space, life space work space, attending to the collective and the self, the process not the product.
walking / delicate I can fit / myself into all manner of things / and shapes / hooked / like a hhh / rail hail and an / world is a mesh of letters / and rhyme / I don't know the names / and want / to spin out / a / list / of / things
summarise your walk, feet fettered feathered mapping
then we met each other, trying to clutch the paper / walked it between us
the work is still happening / even though at one point
she was wrapped up in it (so was I)