A few decades of dying / short dance film /

1. Solitude

In the space where all is touched
by hands of little strangers,
the feet circle around misplaced
earings, rings and silky strings of
fallen hair, catching the orbit.
Thin black tattoos
wrapping the fingers and the hands,
mapping the shoulders and the chest,
the burning belly and the broken spine.
Blazing brutal bonafide body.
Too much noise to be calm.
Too much solitude to be happy.

2. Body

The feet circling
the feet walking in specific trajectories
the feet looking out of the window

the back curling
the back turning inwards
the back hiding the head

the hands clapping
the hands and arms embracing the crying body
the hands wide spread

the head cutting
the head climbing its peaks
the head is dead.

3. Moon

Curious face
made of bark
made of salty
silent tears

dripping down
to blinking heart
from the eyes blunt
and swollen

clock is ticking
with raindrops
but the time
stays still

only the moon
proves to me
I am a cycle older
older than what
I will ever be

is life just a
few decades of dying
or an unbecoming
a rebirth into stillness
coupled with
love.

4. Dreams

Dreams bring back to me
all men I've ever loved
every time I wake I cry
I feel so heavy
sleeping as dressed all winter
I am weary

Seven years of solitude
out in the sea
seven year old ocean
growing around me

Slow pace of these days
slows me evermore
tighter and tighter

A tray of drying roses
getting evermore
lighter and lighter.

5. Paradoxes

When I close my eyes
I see my eyes closing

I touch my hips and
the palms break my pelvis

Fingers keep on dancing
on the holes of my black flute

Hair darkens in winter,
belly swells, skin lightens

The same boiling water
that softens a potato
hardens an egg

The more I stand still
the closer I get
to forgiveness.