God

They have told me
I am God.
They have put me on the earth-throne
and commanded,
"Rule".

They have given me a kingdom larger than my eye.

They have convinced themselves
I can do it.
"Homo sapien," they said,
"You are capable
of anything."

They have convinced themselves I can do it.

But they have forgotten.
It existed before I did.
My rule is not theirs.
In me and
without me,
they have the utmost ...

But they have forgotten.
I am a woman.

They have
forgotten.
To change the terminology;
to amend the paperwork.

They have forgotten.
I am a woman.
They have told me:
I am God.

You all represented the possibility of something. You were each a part of something in the future.

planar

Body in my bed
makes starts.
There's a whole gap free next to him
but it's not mine
That's where I used to sleep
when I wouldn't let in
didn't want life interrupted
by equidistant genders
and their conducive etiquette

So I moved to the wall
and you replaced me on edge.

and death

I feel like all of my lives are filtering through me tonight. Horizontal, I catch heart-sinks of longer skirts and straw brooms as I stare up at where (yesterday) there were cobwebs.

My mother sincerely believe we were in the holocaust together. I think she might be right. I get very anxious about being hungry and eat pragmatically. Constantly, I have a sensation of being shot in the back. But not just these things. Dad, who is German, insists I'm his mother reincarnate, too. And not just that to cement it. Something in me knows. As I said, Berlin calls. Not only because it's the place to create, at the moment. Barely that.

But there's visions here, too. Of a quieter life in earthy olive sunlight. Living with the earth and each other and the sky as God. I heard them all calling me from Lion Rock, tonight.

Then, driving (in this current place). Locking the backs of my knees out against the space between the airbag and the car seat. I imagined us crashing. Well, you crashing, I suppose. As you were driving. Felt the beginnings of my knees dislocating in reverse. Body lurching forward to meet itself and its gauche limbs strung up against the door frame. Enticing this sensation, almost. I wanted my bones to break.

Imagine if I couldn't dance. Next week. Ever. How gloriously hideous.

And more than that. Sitting at our destination, I wanted to be rolling around the avaricious sea floor. I wanted to be lifeless so that I could be totally held. By something other than my own muscle memory and creation collapsing within my head. I'm all yours, nature. That's what I will say to the sea. Smash me around like a masochistic daydream. I want the choice of when to not have to make choices.

If you can see something, do you deserve to have it as yours?

room/tone

Something lovely in 30 seconds of requested silence (though held by cumbersome plasticky equipment).

We are in a cave listening to the sound of air.
We are a group of people.
We are people doing a thing.
We are creating; Creatures.

I want each time I dance to be a remembering of the blood flying through my body.

don't do it

hunting for words to
say something visceral (like
bad choreographies)