Dance, dance
this
one
last
time
wisp of smoke
[Thing is that the phrase life is short is often uttered without actually measuring the extent of life before pronouncing this verdict as truth. As fact. As acceptance to a perceived notion of life’s “shortness”. I am beginning to explore the possibility of the notion that life is neither. Short. Nor unnecessarily long. It is what it is. And we learn to live it. Or rather life lives us. And we in our shyness or dare I say fear of life tend to accept our daily-hurtling towards a death comfortably foretold by what else. Life.
Our “shyness” and our “fear” are actually neither shy. Nor afraid. To continually question life. In different ways. To ask it questions over and over again. And life? Life is under no obligation whatsoever to answer. Unless you consider the continued silence an answer. Or. A bad translation.]
do you mean what
do you mean
as you step back and swirl-twirl
as you step back and bend
your knees
as you step back
as you step back
let me see how you
do it do it how you do it
keeping time
with the rhythm
keeping time with the blues
all the while
the music grows
louder and the truth
does appear to fade
(what else can it do can it do)
what else can it do
can it do
forgive me my shy grief
flame
waver
hesitate
burn
between the black
and the black lies
an abandoned shaft of light
floor wood-planked shuffle feet nervous
enter the stage lines mid-streaming
everything stops on cue before starting
split-second moment
startled beginning anew
the song
the story
the tale
lore
saga
opening wounds long forbidden
as eyes easy targets
beam crisscrossing stage
made thunder made storm
made taut
eyes follow
eyes as you rivet
nail the attention of an entire
audience enthralled
silently watching
every move you make
dance
shadows
luminous and alive
dance
on white walls
as the day
twists
into twilight
dance gray
dance eager
danceembrace
the reluctant night
wasted like desire the wind
crackles
like an over-used radio
after the rain
the failed lightning
too late now
to look for last night’s music
abandoned flame
snuffed between forefinger
and thumb
wisp of black
drifting shapeless
a grand unravelling?
see the rain settle
in a corner of your head
you claim as “mine!”
last night’s dream
breathing in the
breathlessness
as you stand on one leg fakira
in a parody of the clown
your leg quivering the bells
ringing the orange red
of your costume stained
in a sweat-filled grandeur
shuffle feet time keep beat
abandoned moonlight smoke
wisps
like the tailend
of a song gone wrong gone song
expelled
like breath from
a sky unused to
breathlessness
this cloud silvered
with the promise of rain
pretending indifference
holding its breath
as if as if as if
...through the cracks in the dream
the shadows
escaping
one by one...
Softly
like warm breath
on a cold mirror
or a whisper
on bare feet
wearing only white
he slipped away
unable to resist
before escaping
a last glance
