The Horizontal Woman   Peacock bright in spinnaker smock she looms, higher than on feet she can not use, a wider bed installed to stop her frequent heavy falls. Tiny helpless hands flutter at the fancy 3D cards she loves to make, another one of her escapes. “Visitors” are staff she’s set herself to know or volunteers, drawn in by what they find, pain put aside, the wit they hadn’t guessed.   Serious at shopping, she keeps her orgies secret if drawers provide the space to hide excess: oranges, apples, grapes and berries, king chocolate blocks, fudge and cakes, cream…