-KSP guest blogger Jarvis Fosdick.
I once operated a chai stand with Bhanu.

Prior to reading I made these notes:

Clouds thick in June breaking for July, finally the sky is clear so as to illuminate these pages for reading.

In that prior dark mist I had seen photographs and heard rumors. At the dedication page I Cut the ‘o’ from Rohini, then put it back ever so soft so she didn’t notice the mended seam.

I am on page 1.  Page 5, but 2 – 4 are only sky.
I like page zero.

I am what, in the Middle Ages specifically, would be referred to as an architect. Today I am an artist or gardener.  Of course everything I make is invisible.

Page 6.  I wanted to write before I read, that is, I want to record my thoughts going in because I am illiterate.  I think I can read, but I can’t.  Only see pulleys and gears.  Machines to build some block wall to arch.  Index.  I admit I peaked and saw the numbers reference paragraph picture.

I ordered two copies and cut them both into index cards of pages. Then I shuffled.  Then I read.  Notwithstanding page zero, I left that out.
It was too violent, we had to sew the pages back together.

8:43 am, June 30th.

Readers Reading:
Page 30, cigarette, although I don’t smoke.
Page 39, I write: “in a fever she spoke language”
Page 43, make fold to remember.
Page 63, draw box around text

10:15 am, June 30th: Readers Writing.

I realize now there was no need to shuffle the pages.  The order is already divided into colors by root threads.  But the beginning actions are my forearm – the readers reading.  This great cloud of work, the weather map of jungle colors in its schizophrenic index does break into that sunshine – a type of sewn dress that speaks beyond style, beyond that of nationality.  It is broken from them and then set in gauze.  This sunshine logic – the automata – it too breaks and a from forth comes about with powerful intensity.

These for me are the moments of sky.  Remembering without sound. Pure anxiety attached to the body, then to succumb to touch.

that touch makes the words, erases the story, that is, to take the pages and fold them into colors.  Not ignoring the violence of the body, not to leave out the screams of jungle mad fever wolfgirls.

This violence makes it worth feeling and to allow that pain to be soothed, a structure of attachment, location and setting that when heard screaming becomes an action now ready to succumb to the overlap of touch.

Jarvis does book binding & quilting with artists and writers. He himself is a sculptor and landscape architect.