spots ovenbird Spots on the liver could be anything. She could be transforming into a leopard, finally shedding her human form for something liquid and feline. Or there could be galaxies forming inside her–infant stars bursting from her solar plexus, gravity gasping and grasping and new born. Her body might be composing a symphony, all those grace notes and trills tripping across the staff of her rib cage. There will be tests. Of course there will be tests. But are they calibrated to find the leopard camouflaged in the shadows, or the light that’s travelled for a billion years, or the last lingering notes of one of the greatest concertos no one has ever heard? 251207 what's it to you? who go blather from