Amber DiPietra and Denise Leto
excerpt from Waveform

Hi Thom,

So here is a short outtake from the collaboration Denise Leto and I did around an idea of suspension—a kind of epistolary poem essay that elapsed between many emails and deep dish pizzas and anecdotes about crazy Italian families.

We began with conversations about how to hold ourselves in space, as both Denise and I experience considerable trouble getting out of bed in the morning due to our separate forms of chronic illness. We also exchanged images and made collages as part of this collaboration. This collage contains: the waveform (captured with sound editing software) of Denise and I laughing hysterically after a long night of editing, Denise’s MRI, photos of a warm pool where I swim, swimmer torso photo, and a brochure I received prior to glaucoma surgery.

A different, longer version of Waveform will appear in an upcoming Chain Links anthology edited by Patrick Durgin.

Thanks so much Thom! Hope this works for you,
[Amber DiPietra]

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Unarticulated at the junctures. Where words come out. Peripatetic. In natation. I only really articulate in water. Dream myself on the sidewalk and the bus in a fish tank on wheels. Rolling briefcase sloshing across Market Street. Fear and desire, a crashing back. Like the airliner into the Everglades. Impacted into limestone. Smooth and rich, coming up again, moving with new carbons, flowing to a third coast, intercoastal.
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Touching lightly on one thing with the writing before moving on to another. Intending was enough to open out into a space that can hold
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on the other axis laterally
>with foreshortened forearms, push off
silty bottom, settle
>midway in sulfurous green.
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Not a mask exactly, not a stripping away of instrument or affect, no measure, just lines, one interrupting the other. The water answers. I lie in the part of the ocean under the rock which is calm. The problem of description. The water is not still. It is never still. I cannot make this part of a paragraph. Its particulate sprays the air around itself so that what comes through cannot be owned.
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>Suspension, always preparatory in my thoughts with the words in the physical
body not sonorous, when something else is carrying you
>another part fluid and eloquent
in the MRI a brain mirror of another
>fissure, convolvulus, strapped
re-imagining a brocade of bone
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