Glass Anchor:
something fills his throat.
it is breath,
and a word
(perhaps a sentence),
flooding inwards
like night in November,
full before there is time to blink.
~
tripping vaguely,
almost angrily on the light
he had spilled earlier that morning,
he swears, “shit” and puts the light back in the jar.
Idle:
she directed traffic,
the cars that were really just her dreams,
a single dream
fragmented like fingers to three four five
she walked forward,
throwing dream away, slowly away,
brushing the fading space
to finally wake
with words silently silk-screened
to her mouth.
~
she will return sometime
I tell myself
and believe it this time,
believe as she folds her elbows as envelopes
and mails herself to my address.
~
“stop.”
her favorite word is stop
and her arms love to flex,
carving the space in front of her
back on itself.
and with her mouth,
she says stop
the s and t sharper each time,
and she plays with the letter p
(the o is just the shape of her lips,
she thinks of the o as a kiss
and does not challenge its circle).
From the author:
I am on a mission to promote the integration of poetry to the process of ‘reviewing’ or responding to dance performances. I feel that the experience of dance supercedes the judgment attached to work (ex: That was a ‘good’ piece; I didn’t ‘like’ that show etc …), and that reviews or responses to creative performances should focus on experience over judgment. By responding through words, creating some semblance of poetry, I feel that the ephemeral art of dance is extended into a larger ‘lifetime’ as well as to a larger audience.
Tagged: Contemporary, Performance, ON , Toronto
