Trickhouse#3 - Michelle Naka Pierce

[Lot 30]

If the calculations are anywhere near, then accuracy is possible. She measures the curves and the angles and arrives here with feet in stirrups. A retrieval of cells from cervix. Test results handed over. She seems young and trembling; she seems mature and stable. Confetti falls and years later found between the cracks. Always a tenor of anticipation. Her chances seem slim. Static appears intermittently and her muscles destabilize during sex. Outside turn of inside incline. She plays the site of innuendo.

text by Michelle Naka Pierce images by Sue Hammond West excerpts from She, A Blueprint for InterSurface _____________________________________________________________________________________
	[Lot 30] If the calculations are anywhere near, then accuracy is possible. She measures the curves and the angles and arrives here with feet in stirrups. A retrieval of cells from cervix. Test results handed over. She seems young and trembling; she seems mature and stable. Confetti falls and years later found between the cracks. Always a tenor of anticipation. Her chances seem slim. Static appears intermittently and her muscles destabilize during sex. Outside turn of inside incline. She plays the site of innuendo.
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	[Lot 31] There she imagines a veranda overlooking the horizon, not horizon so much as mirage, not mirage exactly, but vertiginous illusions where her thoughts converge. She listens to improvisational notes inside annotations outside digressions and departures. Those who notice her among all gaze do so furtively. Shape is initially about perception, as she changes positions. The one who lives at the same time often crosses borders, not borders exactly but exo- and endo-skeletons. Membrane, elevator membrane, elevate a membrane, elevate her this. She passes in front and is sometimes seen as a deserter. Yet no one ever falls through an abandon cut. Just open rue. Parcel O. She dreamt of migrating up stream. The prospect of red.	LEGEND Horizon: See Gynesis.
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	[Lot 32] She puts the armless chair in the alcove. No casual speech this afternoon. Waves alternate the binding of wrists and ankles. She understands erotic configurations linked with chance result in a particular outcome. Without warning, there is an interruption of pleasure. Flashes of lightning in the distance, impenetrable. A groove along the baseboard gathers towards her just so. Onlookers witness continuity, and her gait becomes harder to resist. No words form on the tips of her fingers. This is a composite of struggle and suffering. Or this is the exhalation between heartbeats. A kind of Braille. She is never really a finished construction because her past and present create overlapping surfaces. This home can be owned but never experienced, or experienced but never owned. She pauses. Parcel P. Her enclosed condition transforms into a kinetic dynamic.
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