Serial library passage Apr. 13

13 Apr

The woman, whose hair was a net of musical notes, made a noise like a word that has no meaning. At the end of the day, the woman had gathered up a brief series of noises that together sounded a poem, a haiku, only more like water, and shorter. It took her all day and then she fell upon herself like a ravaged beast and twisted in her bed sheets like a bird rolling upon the silvery surface of the air above a waterfall. The woman slept now like dreaming a stave of counterpoint components that has no beginning or end, complementary components that exist merely to allow for the arrival of something newer, something more unexpected than what had ever come before.


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