Monday, June 23, 2025

Trisha Brown

Changing temperature meeting the skin that tells no lies Her feet find the softening earth
My feet find the softening earth 
Earth softens under feet particular to no one, ours in that special way 


(18-20 raving goddesses swat the space of themselves amid a room whose history is 30% a green staircase. “Bring yourself in,” I think. The artists are home.)
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Stand

An impulse is just a flashing weight. A choice has a beginning middle and end. Maybe there is a roundness.

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