In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

Who Does SheThink She Is Risen from the cart, the sick bed, the steel trolley? Witch of the world, her roars hide in waterfalls so small no human on earth has seen them. Small, I wander the paths of the world, dust, a miracle nose to scoop air, breathing. Between my skin and spine a thin layer of cells, a silence. Who do I think Iam, a solitude, a poor bridge, small beer? Enough that my eyes focus on that emerald tree, that spruce, blue in its huge dying. Risen again, once more the heat of my skin pours radiance,praise, salt and hops into air, my skin abracelet of psalms, my navelinvisible,a veil. 90 ...

Share