Among the array of silver pans there is a gleaming pot
that sits on the stove. It was bought with a gift card from Home Depot.
The stove in the kitchen is where families gather Sundays for dinners of potluck
and gossip about whose Uncle or Husband these days, is battling impotency.
It all begins with bottles of beers Uncle Jimmy chugged ’til he pisses in the flower pot.
Now that ticks off Grandma ’cause it’s an antique piece of Navajo Indian clay pottery.
So, Grandpa gets up and has to make peace in the room while holding still his pot belly
as Grandma swears that’s the last time Jimmy will ever taste her original pot roast.
And why the hell does Jimmy need to be eating all of this potassium
when his cholesterol’s shooting off the charts from his love of potatoes
and red meat? He’ll never find a wife! And Jimmy screams, “You despot!”
Now that makes for nice family memories of Sundays with faint smells of potpourri
and I laugh as my friend says, “My family’s fucked up too. We have genetic Pott’s
disease.” Poor guy, that’s why he convinces us to go out partying and drink Poteen,
illegally imported by an Irishman who rants and raves in Gaelic but is named Potemkin,
until we remember our physics professor who died driving drunk after he hit a pothole.
Then we remove the flask from our faces and my friend says, “Gimme something potent,”
and Irishman says, “Like some grass?” and my friend says, “No asshole, like some pot.”
Red eyed and droopy lidded, we hear my friend’s adamant statement, assess the potential
of our evening, then pay off the Irishman for his herb and leave the house to go potting.
Monthly Archives: February 2011
Among the array of silver pans there is a gleaming pot
You called me “beautiful” and I was yours,
Blew smoke rings ’round me, said I “must be gold”,
Jewels shined but I put men on all fours.
Still, fires from your heart only kept me cold.
Beneath your praise and sweet nothings I’d lay,
Etching art into flesh, painted in blood,
Silent havoc I wreaked and yet you’d say
“Sweet pea, you’re bold, I’ll write our names in mud.
They’ll turn to stone and forever we’ll lie
Together.” Against those words I shivered,
Behind batting lashes and smiles I’d cry
Mute tears you never saw and I whispered:
“Baby, I’m choking,” but you didn’t hear,
“‘Cause of your love I’m slowly dying, dear.”
“Like a palace”, they’ve called it with
Sun shining upon it. On the
Outside it glows. On the inside
It glooms. Cell blocks instead of rooms;
Residential luxury prison.
A sturdy roof, some windows
Here, there some doors and staircases
Leading each to their own exile.
Bedroom sanctuaries keep them
Sane – asylum in their own worlds
Yet their walls become craftsman’s glue
Holding each steady, reeling them
In from rougher waters outside.
Each with their own stories to scream,
The farther away from home they
Stray the wider a four cornered
Web they weave and find this home the
Center of it: the home, where they
Sleep like fish in their own caves. The
Home, where without the walls of their
Bedrooms binding them together
They would be nothing with no one.
1. Never enter a classroom without pink tights, body suit and skirt. Elegance.
2. Always have your hair pulled back and tight. Confidence.
3. Always stand with chin up, shoulders back, stomach sucked in and butt tucked under. Beauty.
4. You must warm up and stretch at the barre before adagio. Fragility.
5. You must have your feet pointed, chin following shoulder and hips turned out at all times. Gag.
6. NEVER stand in parallel position. Vomit.
7. Always find your center and hold it. Use your plier and elongate. Tear.
8. Never eat fast food and certainly do not eat ANY food past nine. Gargle.
9. At least six pounds must be shed before the final fitting of a tutu. Smile.
10. Never under any circumstance seem like you do not love what you are doing. Repeat.
Whether it be the strictly regimented form of ballet, the sauciness, intimacy and flashiness of ballroom, the loudness and attitude found in hip hop, or the soft, freeing, release and contract of lyrical, the art of dance can be immensely healing in body and spirit. To adhere your mind to another perspective of the world, another perspective of yourself, and to instill a new form of movement throughout your body is invigorating and refreshing through adulthood. It is a splash of new-ness that many crave as an adult. Dance can inspire the daring and bold move of eliciting different personas within one’s self.
Dance is indisputably the most beautiful and elegant form of art contrived of man. The most wondrous thing about this art form is its miraculous therapeutic abilities. Aside from the masterpieces of art your body will learn to create, dance can train your body to revive itself. Through various techniques and styles that are perpetually being reinvented, any one individual can find a style that is suitable to their personality, one that instills passion for the individual, and most importantly, one that is comfortable to express with your own body.
As for physical health, many adults have forgotten how certain body parts and areas function due to lack of exertion once they’ve settled into the more mundane lifestyles of office jobs, domestic care, etc. It is important to remain intimately in touch with your body and the movement of each and every single muscle as you age. This way you stay in tune with yourself and understand when your body speaks to you. This will render a most rewarding relationship between you and your body once you realize illness symptoms or any forms of minor discomfort are easier to identify. As an adult this will play its role in the prevention of physical deterioration as health becomes more of a focus.
While enrolling yourself in dance class as a beginning adult, the most important thing to remember is that it just might be the best thing you could do for your mind and body after the years of vibrant youth have settled themselves down memory lane. Dance is not only a psychological catalyst which can revive those years of virility but, for many adults who have deemed themselves incapable of the same physical abilities of years past, it may act as a stimulant for muscles that have rusted over time without the oils of physical release.
Dance class, in any technique or style, is able to offer the knowledge of muscle control, flexibility, stamina and the perspective of a healthier you, in mind body and soul. While benefiting health wise, you are offering your body a chance to relive the greatnesses it once performed. All of this is done while in an artistic sphere of mind. You will undoubtedly find that beginning dance lessons as an adult could be the best decision you’ve made for yourself after years of answering to commitments and responsibilities of the those in a world away from the zest of adolescence.
- The Importance of Learning Ballet Dance (todaysworldviews.wordpress.com)
- 10 Reasons Pole Dancing is The Best Workout (youreroticshop.wordpress.com)
- When Did I Become An Adult? (seriouslysassymama.com)
- Spin Control (psychologytoday.com)
- Activity- Dance (williyang.wordpress.com)
- Lose Weight Like the Dancing with the Stars Cast (savings.com)
- Just so gonna dance again (tinaquynh.wordpress.com)
- Heal Yourself By Dancing… (r3iki.wordpress.com)
- Dance Museum offers summer classes (timesunion.com)
I’m walking down this path
They call Lancaster Walk.
It’s crisp out, it should be winter
But it’s not. The air is still cold
and the squirrels are mating
because they think it’s Spring.
The breeze sends a mentha cool
up my nose and I get chills
down my neck and spine when I exhale.
My eyes are wandering,
avoiding other eyes around me
trying to find a peaceful place
to rest upon
Like a bird on a high branch
after a long flight.
I think to myself, I hardly ever
And it was as if I had
Rolled up the blinds to a dim room.
My eyes grew at the magnificence
I’m always so busy looking around and behind and
As far forward as I can.
For a moment or two it was a mini revelation:
The clear blue
Stained here and there with fluff.
The camera zoomed out
When I notice through my peripheral,
As I’m staring into the sprawling blue,
A sparrow on straight trajectory,
At lightning speed screeching
Treacherously inharmonious notes.
Centimeters from its tail
Glided a larger bird, swooping
Effortlessly but determinedly high and low.
Target in sight,
Acute and precise,
Predator and prey.
Their wild primitive minds
Know that one’s freedom to live
Is the other’s freedom to die.
And suddenly I understand the
Horror, drama, suspense
In every and anything
All of the time.
In this one moment
As the sparrow was tagged,
Throttled to death
I found myself engulfed in
A most violent kind of beauty,
On this crispy day
Down Lancaster Walk watching