#2491 -- art of the almost

 

2491

7.299

28.x.26

art of the almost

Butoh

 

here is the nakedness of a storm

loin stretch shoulder to facing away

 

shivering skinshake all over severe

 

and so as if to say

backs to it

itch and slap

till you’re mosquito

 

then take the sun

crawl forward

 

all of us casting a red eyed drool

 

to act

and so forgive

 

a frog hop exorcism reversing then

 

tear and bite

 

cheer on the demons, bow, out

 

cast red, stretch, curl

 

gone where we go and when

 

gathering light by the while

and letting it

as if a word in the air

 

I implore

it touches

 

little shiver in the works

 

shape of a washed up sea

 

so solemn succumb

 

it’s if you’re the face

can’t be seen

 

if it’s your

 

something is always being meant

 

a defence

and here we think past it

 

it was not I, who

 

wishing touch but none

 

draw a line no one sees

 

the only rhythm here’s a heart

you can’t hear it though

 

if there’s a face

it’s mine

 

I am writing this in the dark