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Bug-Eyed Flapper 'I learned to act by watching Martha Graham dance, and I learned to dance by watching Charlie Chaplin act.' - Louise Brooks And I am self-taught in being habitually drunk - I dot the sun in puddles, dancing attendance on the ambrosia beetle where it sidestrokes in the trough. Clashing hot spot waves until high summer dusts the ground. An insect scuttles. Humidity dissolves to cloud. On thundercloud nine of slurred speech and hypnotic pills there are menacing flare-ups. The sun's outpouring walls up, in a twinkling, the dark. I dream of the shocking-pink incircle of an eclipse, an eardrum to the solar wind wheezing to emptiness. Einstein said, 'energy equals mass times the speed of light, times the speed of light.' Hydrogen, tail-chasing electrons and helium trickles the afternoon. Superdense like this wine, gas fizzes to the curved surface. I act my way through prompt box theatrics under limelight - infra-red, x-rays and osmotic ultraviolet, for my public to stare at in night-blind cinemas. A quaff douses the sizzling cauldron that lies at the heart of a star.
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