Poems and poetry as experiential art experiments, created by a dedicated core, sparking consciousness river, word slurry. A harvest of poems and creative thought from a creative collective cadre.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
one of these dances
One of these dances will be my last. What will I do then? The dances that follow can push me on my way can keep me dancing here— can stretch me fibrous and wet from hereever to thereever birth sounds dying sounds and dance musics between one of these musics will be my last— What music then!