Vaslav Nijinsky

you have smothered me. strangled me. your soul is tangled within mine.

they mingle like awkward party guests. they dance together.

they dream little dreams together. and now, they feel as one. 

our souls have transformed into a glistening single soul. 

i am now you just as you are me. 

we glide as our synchronicity conquers all. 

evil becomes so transparent as we drift past,

and soon it will wholly disappear.

our single soul will continue on for eternity, in ecstasy.

bright and ablaze, our single soul has saved me. 

one, two, three, ballerina

dancing through my veins are trembling ballerinas

who jump from foot to toe searching for a new

blood blood that is fresh and kind innocent and

green but green blood is hard to find especially in

my veins for in my veins black blood is the

commonplace the overarching theme of the

anatomy in which they play frolic and roam the

trembling ballerinas dance through my veins

dance dance dance from foot to toe toe to tip

dance dance dance dance dance dance 

I wrote a poem after recently watching the film "Howl."

A beat

The Internet is down and so we are too.

Left with nothing to do

But sit and ponder our lonesome existence.

Our worries surface and our

Thumbs twiddle --

Over and over and over each other they go

Waiting for something new.

Or for you to stop twiddling and turn around,

For you to go upstairs and sit down without your electronics or your bowl of soup.

For you just to sit and ponder your lonely existence because you are alone and you do exist.

I do not ponder for pondering is foolish, even the word sounds like nonsense.

Ponder, ponder, pon-n-n-nder.

Shall we define you? Oh! But we can’t. Our precious Google is hiding. He’s depressed; the search button leading only to an imminent demise and an ultimate, horrific death.

To know the definition, the origin, the syllable count. What’s the point?!

To create sentences, paragraphs, poetry and novels? Oh, please, please do, but not if it pleases you and me and everyone over there and everyone over here, but only if it upsets them and annoys me and hurts you.

Film opens in the woods.
A wide establishing shot of the forest.
We hear the silence of the woods, interrupted by an occasional call of the birds. The
camera is static allowing us to settle in. There is a beaten path in front of us and we hear
a rustle in the distance, the sound of bark crunching under-foot, leaves rustling. As the
sound gets closer we start to hear a low indistinguishable deep, guttural-like murmuring.
As the sound get closer and builds, the 1st piano composition of music starts as a seamless
accompaniment.

As the sound gets bigger the camera slowly pulls back even further/slow zoom out, we
see at the edge of the path, just coming into our vision, an empty stretcher, strewn and
overflowing with flowers. The stretcher is carried by two Magicians, both in top hats and
tales, high above their heads. As they walk, flowers fall and mark the path.

Behind them we see a procession of characters following the magicians, their low
guttural murmuring, as if a chorus to the piano composition, is filling the soul of the
forest with it’s magical sounds. In a choreographed group, the procession of characters,
which include the character of Death, more Magicians in top hats and tales, the tarred and feathered
WWII Prostitute, Mephisto, and the Tarot characters, The Hangman, The Star, The
Moon, The Sun, The Devil, The High Priestess, The Magician, The Fool, The Lovers,
and The Hermit, follow behind the stretcher carrying a long, floating ‘red-colored-
chiffon-see-through veil, all walking towards us in a stylized choreographed march.

I remember when I couldn't remember anything. I sat there unsure, unable to form words of any meaning or of any real context. Nothing occurred to me and I sat straight ahead. It was one of the worst and most terrifying feelings I have ever encountered. I felt fear and an overwhelming emotion, but no memory or idea followed it. I sat there thinking about all of the things I could not remember. All of the trips I have been on, all of the stories and people that intrigue me, and my entire twenty two years that are filled with memory. All I can remember is this feeling of blankness. It comes over me every now and then and it taunts me with it's lingering uncertainty. Sometimes I try and write through it. I think about my dream from the night before. I was on Mars actually. I suppose that could be fairly interesting. I read an article yesterday about a private Danish company that plans on sending two couples, four people, to Mars in 2023. They will live there for the rest of their lives and begin to repopulate the planet. Every two years another couple will arrive. This will be broadcast and become the biggest reality show of all time. Bigger than Big Brother, according to the website. In my dream I was one of the four people. I couldn't quite make out the face of my husband, but he was tall, dark and handsome, of course. I was not afraid of leaving my friends, family and planet behind me, rather I was most concerned with the toilets that they supplied on the 7th month journey to the red planet.