Both of these works in progress, “The Guide” and “The Champion” are part of an ongoing series I’m working on reflecting on queerness, femininity, and monsters. The first piece, “The Guide,” was inspired by the Hiroaki Umeda’s Split Flow and Holistic Strata. The repetition highlighted in his movements definitely contributed to the structure of “The Guide.” The piece also asked me to consider control: who has agency? Does the dancing figure or a god figure? “The Guide” grapples with the idea of agency, of consent. “The Champion,” was also inspired by dance, by ID: ENTIDADES from Companhia Urbana de Dança. The tension between bodies allowed me to imagine a fight for power, which allowed me to build on themes I had already begun to explore in “The Guide.” As I continue to see these performances, I’m excited to see how these poems, and their themes, will continue to develop across a longer body of work.
Inspired by Hiroaki Umeda’s Split Flow and Holistic Strata
Inspired by Hiroaki Umeda’s Split Flow and Holistic Strata
When it’s quiet, we see ourselves repeating
a mantra, a balm
I think down is not actually down
I’m still falling
in the interstitial
The dash between victim-survivor
The interstellar
Ursa Major
The only stars always located above the horizon
Callisto was once a nymph dedicated to Diana
before Jupiter got his hands on her
before Diana turned her into a bear
a punishment for her promises, her rites and reverence
Now we know her by other names
A guide for travelers, sailors, and runaways
The big dipper
The drinking gourd
I’m tired of making choices
The problem with celestial navigation is that at some point coordinates must be given in threes
When it’s quiet, we see ourselves repeating
the space between awake and asleep
at the moment of blinking is where I see
what Cassandra sees
a history
Will they not believe me?
When it’s quiet, we see ourselves repeating
I can hear his breathing.
he tasted clean and smelled like work
like $10 an hour and cheap drinks
I still remember the layout of his bathroom where I cleaned myself up
where I buttoned my coat, in the snow
lighting a cigarette to get the smell of him off my hands.
The stars overhead
