Returning

unknowingly my eyes search
my head leans into the silence
searching for a stirring in the black
my hand itches to reach out
into the night that is not yet set
i have not known time till now
not felt the weight of this uncertainty
(knowing you are unaware of my presence)
i have not known what it means to wait

Fragments

Broken pieces of myself
I find
In places i have never been.

Hidden under layers of time
Secrets resting with bones
Not mine.

THE INDIAN SERENADE

I Arise from dreams of thee

In the first sweet sleep of night,

When the winds are breathing low,

And the stars are shining bright.

I arise from dreams of thee,

And a spirit in my feet

Hath led me -- who knows how?

To thy chamber window, Sweet!




The wandering airs they faint

On the dark, the silent stream--

And the Champak's odours [pine]

Like sweet thoughts in a dream;

The nightingale's complaint,

It dies upon her heart,

As I must on thine,

O belovèd as thou art!




O lift me from the grass!

I die! I faint! I fail!

Let thy love in kisses rain

On my lips and eyelids pale.

My cheek is cold and white, alas!

My heart beats loud and fast:

O press it to thine own again,

Where it will break at last!

~ Percy Bysshe Shelly (1792-1822)

Spin-ster!

(I wrote this as an accompaniment to a short ariel-dance piece I choreographed for myself as part of a 3 week ariel performance workshop with Brandy Leary... il try and figure out how to put the vid of it up next!)

I awake to the sound of my breathing. Within myself first and then on the outside. Where I have awoken I cannot always tell right away... At times I wake into a dream that resembles a reality, other times into a reality that could be a dream. But then again who can tell which is which?

Haven't you ever wondered if you'll suddenly wake up and find all of this has disappeared? that it was only a dream?

I no longer do.

My faith lies in the laws of gravity. Especially when they fail. I need nothing more, for i know in the end i still feel alive.

I continue spinning, in and out of control... and when the world is a blur even when steady, how does it matter what direction I am turning in?

I am asked to turn in sync with the world by people who do not turn it. But I move to my own rhythm. The one i began with, awoke with.

In and out of consciousness too i go, only to wake some place else.

Watching the skies

I do not see the sun. But the sky is filled with clouds a brilliant golden orange. The light plays hide and seek with itself as the clouds dance across the sky. A Kite rides the wind waiting for something, for it watches what goes on below but does not hesitate. The air smells like rain, yet not a drop has hit the ground. And as if in response to my realizing its nearing the peacocks begin to call from the rooftops around me. The traces of the sun are quickly fading leaving what seems to me a clear blue sky. My deceptive eyes watch the light clouds, layered so densely i cannot see beyond, as they pass overhead bringing towards me a much darker canopy, steady in its course. I have been told by an elder that it is not the dark clouds that bring rain. I hope they were wrong.