poetry in movement IX

Part 9 of the free-form poetry inspired by my experiences practicing Skinner Release Technique in the final term of my final year at York University.  This is the last one!

March 22, 2016

it’s easy to believe in magic in your mind
in your mind, there is no concept of weight
of gravity
(nothing is heavy in dreamland)

in your mind you can float, untethered
drifting through currents of slow-moving air
toes just brushing the tops of the dream-grass
and the dream-flowers

it’s easy to believe, until you open your eyes
and feel your real body, the weight of it
sinking into the floor.

but… suspension is not impossible
it may be hard to let go of that concept of heaviness
but if you do
if you let go
if you keep in your mind that dream space, that dream-grass
you can begin to believe in the magic again
and drift away,

poetry in movement VIII

Part 8 of the free-form poetry inspired by my experiences practicing Skinner Release Technique in the final term of my final year at York University.  This is probably the most literal of all of these reflections, so it’s not my favourite–but it’s free writing, so it is what it is!

March 15, 2016

I am a coiled spring, my hips wound tight, held
immobile with rust, and creaking.

But today is about opening, waking up
it’s not as simple as unwinding, relaxing
it’s a deep focus, a reaching thought to
eyes opening on the inside.

Change the shape:
first imagine, then build, then feel
as the rusted coil melts and lets go
the muscles breathe and float
and hips shift and jump and dance of their own accord.

Free.

That inner eye remains open, building more shapes
opening new spaces
the windows in the spine, to see outside and connect
to the cavern in the base of the skull
and the curving wind-tunnels between the ribs
and the valley spaces in the hips, unwound, open
clean, breathing, and free
free to pick up the feet, to jump and twirl
all holding forgotten
all tension lost
in abandon.

poetry in movement VII

Part 7 of the free-form poetry inspired by my experiences practicing Skinner Release Technique in the final term of my final year at York University.  This is one of the less poetic and more scattered reflections I wrote… trying to articulate the my own hesitation in dance and improv and how that is difficult to break out of.

March 8, 2016

tentativity, is that a word?
tentativity, activity
activity that’s… not passive, per se…
but not all there.

a slash, with tenderness
a party, with… sleepiness.
quiet.

tentativity is not a word
it is a lesser activity, a quiet one
slow, swaying, apologetic

a jump, with silence
a shout, without breath
out of the air, lost in the surrounding
noise.

hemmed in, spaced out, tender, quiet, loud
for a while
a dwindling activity
like fall, slowly, to sleep.

poetry in movement VI

I missed posting one of these last weekend because I was busy moving home from university!  Maybe I’ll post another one tomorrow to make up for it.  Anyway, here’s Part 6 of the free-form poetry inspired by my experiences practicing Skinner Release Technique in the final term of my final year at York University.

February 23, 2016

(we gather)
we choose a place, a point, arbitrarily, independently
but still we gather in strips of sunlight
like moths to a flame

scatter and gather, scatter and gather
we are loose, we are free, we are surrounded by each other
and ourselves
so much space, within and without

little gatherings
in a bigger whole
a spacious whole, gathered in the sunlight
like so much shining, dew-spun web
flutter and scatter and float and gather
together: brushing past, leaning, lifting, learning
follow and lead, lead and follow

find the little spaces in between
where hands touch
where eyes see
where light and air and breath peek through
bending around and lighting up the points we choose
independently, arbitrarily, individually
(we gather)

poetry in movement V

Part 5 of the free-form poetry inspired by my experiences practicing Skinner Release Technique in the final term of my final year at York University.  This one seems to be somewhat about temperature…

February 9, 2016

today I am noticing, thinking about, feeling
temperature: the weather of the room
the cool surface of the floor
except in those places where a body has moved,
where feet and hands and backs have carried weight.

today I am noticing the warmth of palms in moments of effort
against the cool softness of fingers, gently brushing muscles into play

today I am wondering if the heat leaves a trace
a spiderweb of warm paths across the floor, telling where people have been
trailing echoes of coolness on the surface of the skin
on my shoulders

together in the space, maybe, dancing patterns of warmth and cold
left over from the living bodies that leave,
the weather in the room carrying the echoes of the dance
for just a little while longer.

 

poetry in movement IV

Part 4 of the free-form poetry inspired by my experiences practicing Skinner Release Technique in the final term of my final year at York University.  This one is all about breath.

February 2, 2016

loose, forgetful
open, effortful
expand, then disappear; fill up, then blow away

don’t breathe like a mouse sighs
breathe like wind on a mountain-side
slamming against bare rock
whistling between the peaks
filling up the valleys
yawning through the caves, cavernous
whispering through the branches
of the trees

breathe to fill the spaces, all
one at a time

laugh, cry, yawn, and the breath makes itself
breathe, and the dance makes itself, breathe

feel it fill to the brim, to the wall
and past
beyond
into open space
shifting the freezing air
mixing with the wind that runs
up and down the mountainside
and through the trees
energy free, floating
above it all

poetry in movement III

Part 3 of the free-form poetry inspired by my experiences practicing Skinner Release Technique in the final term of my final year at York University.

January 26, 2016

I am dew-covered moss
I am a forest
(lying below, the roots encircle
entwine, embrace)
I am roots creeping, a green shoot unfurling, quick-slow

stepping out, stepping up, turning, twisting
(I am become)
like a nymph, a dryad, one
darting between
out of sight
like a breath of wind
but then urgent
(monstrous, dark,  and lost)
(uncertain, falter, shift)

what, is this natural? natural?
sounds in the base, in the root, in the gut
(monstrous, natural)
quiet, quieter, quietly step
wake up, awake, breathe, sigh
float
suspend, between

I am a dew-covered spider’s web
drifting in the wind
untethered

spiderweb