murmur laughter call-outs purled
and swirled her periphery…where
chromatic images blurred vision
field to fog…dry-grass apples night
the high wire spindled space
beneath the plexus of her feet
for transition of a plane
beyond compress-ed gravity
the lifting of her arms…was all
for palming of the air to balance
accounting compass of her orient
without pretense net…without prop
of attitude for imperfect arabesque
Bonnie Marshall
Art by Henri de Toulouse Lautrec
Proem... 
Very intriguing!
You know I’m pleased you like it, Nancy. Smiles.
Reblogged this on lampmagician.
Thank you very much. Very.
Perfect … esp. “for palming of the air to balance” …
I’m glad you found my favorite line, dear friend. Smiles.
thanks for the audio file, which is so interesting.
well, she is up there, trying to ignore the “laughter” and the “call-outs,” trying to focus on keeping her balance, aided by her “palming the air,…without prop of attitude.” her difficult feat is something like writing a good poem.
Thinking…each poem I write takes place on the risk line…part of the fun. Thank you, Michael. I’m pleased you listen in to the voicing. Smiles…