Makeshift Body – Navigations in Felt Space

	BY CICI BLUMSTEIN i hurl my body into space like a nomad’s tent: temporary shelter from the elements from the impending chaos of disintegration my body holds its own structures inside flowing worlds of blood and membranes a russian doll of spaces at its core the bones bearing witness to a fleeting shape delicate etchings of fibrous attachments will tell a story much later of muscles that once pulled a smile and held me in space
stones and bones
i think of the formation of planets, of how stone matter reaches back to that beginning made of star matter, our bodies mirror the universe retracing planetary movements on the earth i fling my bones beyond my body, pulling energy from the ground there is no limit and expanding, i make space my body
	the makeshift body dreams of space travel, of rolling over unknown surfaces, navigating between the stars and planets of an entire galaxy its dark soul, earthbound, transitory, circular, infinite, embraces death and disintegration hovers between past and present present and future it probes the earth down to its core, pushes back up through mud and graves, into the roots and out through the pores of leaves like breath
felt space this knowledge of bones and structure, movement and death struggles out of us into our creations

if we can throw our own bones to the wind, they may journey across the solar system