22.11.10






Below a high window harsh daylight tumbles down shaft-like mixing with dust rising, she pauses to enter the slipstream  before diving into the daimonion. Her silhouette sets off a harsh, abrupt shadow. She secures a promise by commencing to dance.
In this transparent essence, she madly spins with the intensity and reverence of a Dervish. Her head is thrown back to belie ecstasy and invite delusion. With one hand to the small of the back, the other to her chin she sends the brief chiffon flailing, flying into a luminous smoke blur and sends black   fluid shapes onto the rammed floor following her every course. She glances in and out of the spotlight unknowing if her shadow follows or leads her. Perhaps it does both. The jealous shadow pulls her repeatedly into the focusing light as if needing to be seen.
     Her feet scrape the dirt and then seem to hover. She hides her face and then bares teeth. Bucking and writhing with the allure of a feral cat.
    The dance becomes her.
    She’ll continue till they forget what she wants or she is ready to receive what she has asked for.

As natural light dims and gloom begins to take over, the tiny flames that have burned continuously now draw attention as they slowly grow in proxy, their intensity becoming the brightest glow in the room.
    The moon peeks into the clerestory window, nods its head with apology, and, sinks again below the grease smeared marble ledge.
    She divides the room.  Her facing aspect lit up by a nervous flickering wall of candles. Her dark side lost in the cast of skipping, shrill, wild apparitions skimming the stone wall. The chamber is enhanced with the illusion that she is many, and, lends a potency of impending bizarre.
   Shape shifting, yet ever constant.
   On and on lost in the dance as dawn awakens.

Her shadow fades, pulling at her like the tug of sleep. Her expression satiated, the apostrophe of the night wanes.
   She no longer knows or cares if it's she who’s in trouble, or those around her.
Attendees notice the conversation piece. A hand wrought pewter serving platter with a chiseled pattern of chaos within its symmetrical border. As mesmerizing as a mandala, and awaiting the prize.

12 comments:

  1. Whoa... quit talking to Half-Moose.

    Grave dancers creep me out enough as it is... don't need abstract narratives added to the mix.

    ;)

    Seriously, though... nice.

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  2. Wow Jeff, your kidding right? Something actually creeps YOU out? It's an ancient story, I reckon most will recognize it. -J


    If the 'rising' shot doesn't work for you, it can be ignored.

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  3. this is a very alluring piece...the apostrophe of night...nice...the platter with teh chaos is a great mirror as well for the dance she just came out of or finds herself in...nice piece....

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  4. Could see it in 3-d. You blow me away

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  5. I'm intrigued now, what's the ancient story? Sweet, I nearly did a piece about a dancer but wouldn't have done it as much justice.

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  6. hmmm...i'm going to have to come back to this again to get the full effect...

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  7. I have returned a couple of times now ...

    I am puzzled by the physical layout of the piece: the ragged indentations; the line ejects without a following space. I am not able to form this in my head as poem or prose.

    So ... what I will do is copy it and format it 'my way' so that the layout does not block my own access to the meaning.

    Is that too much of an infringement?

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  8. Nice insight, Brian.

    LH, ditto

    Hey Julie,
    The 'ragged indentations' are either flush-left beginning of, or, equal space indents as secondary, paragraphs. Some sentences stand on their own, and so there are a few one sentence 'paragraphs'.
    I'll switch beginning Ps to all FL if it's easier to read.
    It is description of an event.
    Whether you want to read it as prose is up to you.
    Hope this helps...don't work too hard...

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  9. Wow, the images in this piece are amazing. I don't think I understood just what the "event" you mentioned was, but it sounds a bit like it was a psychotic break of some sort.

    And to be honest, it creeps me out tool. It plays like some of my worst nightmares.

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  10. Love it. So exotic. So poetical!

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  11. I like how you took a bunch of seemingly unrelated words, put them in a bowl, shook them up, threw them on the floor, and then, with as little movement as possible, turned them into something that is lovely to read.

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