Animated conversation, temples tripping and jaws falling. Dangling, waxy visions from spirit edge-of-stupor. Palms petting and beating the air, and well–
Among the collective … basket ears, a quieter lips-type, a seat-edge even on the spirit edge, hand clasper, neck-craner, a ‘mouth-to-ear’ past those gushing side faces.
Sometimes she will sit back, though still giving the seat just a peck and drift enough for words to pass.
Basket ears, fed apart from the whole with morsels of her own collection–positive or negative how could an observer know.
i.e. the poet does not know what to say anymore.