“... poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence. It forms the quality of the light within which we predicate our hopes and dreams toward survival and change, first made into language, then into idea, then into more tangible action. Poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought. The farthest horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives.” --Audre Lorde
Monday, February 25, 2008
in direction of our own vision
square orange practice a singular wooden misadjustment inkling ever toward marble founding foundational placed clearly around each moment, announced every minute speaking chamber she said willingly over and under each phrase, turned ever which way slightly and then something instigated, a curl, a turn, every particular timed flayed floating like a butterfly until the final knockout-- a shadow dances across the mat, making politics, calling out a name for determined and changing the metaphor of the glove, practical and enduring across each struggle or piece of rusted metal against skin
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