friend

friend

He might not listen to my silence. I wonder.
I've heard of a couple
living on an island at the edge of the world
talking together for so long
that they now hear each other's heart in advance.
We don't live on an island, rather
we face each other like a storm.
I've heard of trees
with woven roots, branches supporting
wide high sky.
Each man supports many skies
and the pain fetters one into the shelter of self.
I dream of sky
wide and high
I dream of a forest
that breathes the strength of the stars.

thought

thought

It happens sometimes.
I'm dropped out.
I'm me, no, I'm moving
from room to the kitchen.
But I want. I want!
To be connected again.
So I try, I try to spell out your name
my way home should start
by pulling a name.
A name has hooks...
a chair hook, a painting hook, a smile hook
and a grip hook.
I pull by the smile hook
I get the eyes, the upper arm,
and it's moving! It's moving towards me.
I stretch out my arm
and I find relation.
Think! Think, therefore not I.
Thereof I cannot speak.

dance miniature #1

***

A buildup of hand over hand
quickly climbing a phrase, taking eyes for a ride
until a soft overflow into falling right angles
meanders a nest among hips.
Crawl out birdy Spanish fingers
pulling a blade out, inside out,
aligning in a long swift cut --
and retracting traces like an afterthought...
when snappily reminded, body turns:
and legs deal out the parallel,
threadly sustained.