There is a hydrangea, there is a hollyhock

I dreamed of you; I’ll keep dreaming until you realize

Until we in our fallible humanness realize.

I reach out to touch a wisp of hair, a single curl

An arm comes around my bicep

When I turn under my arm and look back at this town, will it not have changed as much as it ought to have?

What can we learn that we can only learn from youth?

How can we celebrate what is so rich without crushing taking breaking claiming?

I fell down the stairs

I crumpled my metro card

I caught myself

My elbow hurts

I ended up here

How does it happen?

We are just filling the time until

Something magnificent happens.

Something magnificent

Is always happening.

Be alive.

Death deserves its own uncovery

That’s like a discovery that’s been hiding under the surface

Flip over that large flat stone

And that discarded log

View the beetles and worms

Feed on the dead

Detritus

From ashes to ashes

From dirt thus is life

I worry about you, up there

So far from the soil

When you fall, it will feel that much farther

I don’t think you’ve ever walked upon the gravel, descalços

I need you to like pain, just a little bit

Then, I think, we will be free to write the kingdom of our dreams

Here in reality

Short Poem for Dancing Bones

When is warmer, I want to know?

I want to work, to think and grow.

~

This March weather has me still and

Bound. I want to lie upon the ground.

 

I am the soil upon which the rest of my life grows. Once depleted forever gone. I am the gardener.

Does it feel good to till one’s own ribcage? Tear through the intercostals? Rip up the transverse obliques. What are you searching for, with this “tilling”?

The diaphragm underneath; the hummus of good clean soil depends on its layers of padding. Till up my body

take away my parka

feel fertile and free for just moments and then die.

Leave me uncovered. Leave me in a pile of leaves. Leave me buried in the earth and reap my bounty.

the pace with which we have been rattling

about is unsustainable

 

Go back to your childhood

cherry pick memories

 

get lost in a story

and don’t come out

 

unless it is to confront yourself

for real

your adult self

in the true, physical world

You ask me if I will miss New York

New York the city – not the people

my answer:

---

no.

quite honestly.

---

New York is the reason I am leaving New York Virginia is the reason I am coming home.

E.D. 

Today I wonder if I’ve been running from my future

The way I’ve never learned she ran

Did she know all along

What is means to stay in the house all day

(The homeplace)

And not come out?

Or at one point, like me, did she move to New York City?

I don’t know, I can’t remember

Both her life and my 5th grade project on it

Seem so long ago.

Why is it easier to gain weight than to lose it? Because the universe is expanding? Or simply because our lifestyle privileges one over the other? Or is it not easier at all? I have only ever felt the momentum to stay exactly as I am.

my move(s) back to Virginia

the first step in an agrarian lifestyle

twenty-first century style

surrender glamour

go home

live consciously

take time

eat well

work hard

sleep long

dance huge

be kind

rest easy

this is politics.

this is choice.

this is real life.

 

Radiator, Hilary Easton + Co. May 13, 2017, 8pm. Gibney Dance, Agnes Varis Performing Arts Center, 280 Broadway, New York, NY 

video

there’s a lot of space between my body and yours until there’s not

seascape 

once you know what I’m doing are you still interested?

radiator

Is it interesting/ is it possible to write about dance/ art without writing about internal experience?

kelp

pretend until it becomes real

candy bars burning 

you’re so cold I can’t touch you

spoked through

evening time

burned the candy wrappers to keep me warm

radiator