(how do you sound a bracket?)

Placing one hand on your cheek like an (open door, pushing the words sideways
Clasping hands around mouth to make a (tunnel) of unheard yet forceful words
Rounding your ((mouth)) at the corners as if it is a receptacle for lost words
Speaking fast as you turn your head over your shoulder - words travel /
There has to be something inside, otherwise it is just a breath.
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The content of a bracket is both regularly discarded and vitally important. It is neither here nor there. Brackets can be a practice of wandering; sidetracking from the main text. A small step to the side, to clarify why you were standing there in the first place. Sometimes an interruption, a punctuated rhythm which lies outside, whispered like an echo behind the main melody. I imagine walking across those rocks, the ones which have been shaped like the waves. Taking long strides from one precarious rock edge to the next. They are mostly smooth with occasional sharp edges that cut slightly into the soles of my feet. Getting carried away with the rhythm of rock-hopping, I graze my foot, lose balance, and catch myself just above a small rockpool. (A slight disappointment when the timing slips and I rush past where I had wanted to land). It is full of shades of mauve, luminous green, and amber, with dotted textures on its edges. 

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