A poem by Jade Sylvan
Dancing Instructions
Dance with yourself alone in your room.
Put on your favorite song or one that feels right
and dance. Dance crazy or graceful. Fast or slow.
On beat or off. Don’t think about it too much. Just dance!
I like to do it with uplifting songs
with lots of strong major chords,
but an angry or sad song would work just fine.
You’ll just probably do a different type of dance.
The song can be short or long.
One time I played Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands
and waltzed all by myself for 11 minutes and 21 seconds.
Fancy dance steps can be fun sometimes,
but don’t feel like you have to follow them.
Never let anyone tell you what dancing is.
Even if what comes out of you
is something no one else would call dancing
and looks more like hopping, or running in place,
it can be even better that way. Sometimes these are the
most fun kinds of dances, and you never know
what will want to come out if you tell it it’s okay.
Besides, one of the best parts about dancing with yourself
is you don’t need to worry what anyone will think.
No one is watching! If you’re embarrassed,
you don’t even need to tell anyone you do it.
Your neighbors don’t have to know you’re dancing.
You don’t need to take pictures or put it on the internet.
One of the other best parts about dancing with yourself
is there’s absolutely no good reason for it.
It will not earn you money, or clean the carpet,
and it will definitely not make you cool.
2
If you have to ask me, Why do it, then?
then you probably need to do it more than everybody else.
Yes. I do think everybody should dance with themselves
at least once a week. Go ahead! It’s easier than you think.
Even if you have someone else to dance with.
Even if you don’t. Even if you don’t have arms or legs.
You can dance with any part of yourself.
Your belly can be a very lively dance partner.
Your neck and your spine can wiggle in on the act.
Your skull can bob and bounce along.
You can dance with the little finger on your left hand.
You can even dance with your eyes.
Dancing Instructions
Dance with yourself alone in your room.
Put on your favorite song or one that feels right
and dance. Dance crazy or graceful. Fast or slow.
On beat or off. Don’t think about it too much. Just dance!
I like to do it with uplifting songs
with lots of strong major chords,
but an angry or sad song would work just fine.
You’ll just probably do a different type of dance.
The song can be short or long.
One time I played Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands
and waltzed all by myself for 11 minutes and 21 seconds.
Fancy dance steps can be fun sometimes,
but don’t feel like you have to follow them.
Never let anyone tell you what dancing is.
Even if what comes out of you
is something no one else would call dancing
and looks more like hopping, or running in place,
it can be even better that way. Sometimes these are the
most fun kinds of dances, and you never know
what will want to come out if you tell it it’s okay.
Besides, one of the best parts about dancing with yourself
is you don’t need to worry what anyone will think.
No one is watching! If you’re embarrassed,
you don’t even need to tell anyone you do it.
Your neighbors don’t have to know you’re dancing.
You don’t need to take pictures or put it on the internet.
One of the other best parts about dancing with yourself
is there’s absolutely no good reason for it.
It will not earn you money, or clean the carpet,
and it will definitely not make you cool.
2
If you have to ask me, Why do it, then?
then you probably need to do it more than everybody else.
Yes. I do think everybody should dance with themselves
at least once a week. Go ahead! It’s easier than you think.
Even if you have someone else to dance with.
Even if you don’t. Even if you don’t have arms or legs.
You can dance with any part of yourself.
Your belly can be a very lively dance partner.
Your neck and your spine can wiggle in on the act.
Your skull can bob and bounce along.
You can dance with the little finger on your left hand.
You can even dance with your eyes.
A poem by Jennifer Jean
originally published in Poets/Artists in August 2011
Grace
1. Indian Summer
We heard rumors of razors in apples
and needle holes in wrappers.
But, we peeled a trillion sweetmeats
hungrily, as a three alarm fire
gnawed at the San Fernando Valley hills
on Halloween. The smoke
tumbled right
into nearby Simi Valley where rich people lived
in stucco split levels
just below the old Manson Family caves.
We knew, where there’s smoke
there’s snakes--
rattlers, copperheads and more settling over Simi
like the black billows.
You just can’t tell where
the wind blows, I guess.
2. Trick or Treat
That year, we were homespun
pirates or gypsies
draped in fool’s gold.
We were cheap sheet-ghosts--
our pillowcases nearly empty for taking
in the skyline. Flames
fanned the air in praise.
They hustled—made a halo of those sharp licks--
while buckling brush clapped
and free candy paled
when free candy was everything to us.
We lay in bed before they snuffed the fire--
3. Lights Out
we lay open
armed in the relative dark,
our bellies gnashing and moaning
for food, our weak teeth chewing one last
Tootsie pop or Skittle.
We needed more
jaw breaking treats to last like this
mean season gone gracious.
We needed every red-engine knell to slumber
and a neighborhood cease-fire
and then we could wake stoked
to survive—stretch and run
into the All Saints Day dawn.
originally published in Poets/Artists in August 2011
Grace
1. Indian Summer
We heard rumors of razors in apples
and needle holes in wrappers.
But, we peeled a trillion sweetmeats
hungrily, as a three alarm fire
gnawed at the San Fernando Valley hills
on Halloween. The smoke
tumbled right
into nearby Simi Valley where rich people lived
in stucco split levels
just below the old Manson Family caves.
We knew, where there’s smoke
there’s snakes--
rattlers, copperheads and more settling over Simi
like the black billows.
You just can’t tell where
the wind blows, I guess.
2. Trick or Treat
That year, we were homespun
pirates or gypsies
draped in fool’s gold.
We were cheap sheet-ghosts--
our pillowcases nearly empty for taking
in the skyline. Flames
fanned the air in praise.
They hustled—made a halo of those sharp licks--
while buckling brush clapped
and free candy paled
when free candy was everything to us.
We lay in bed before they snuffed the fire--
3. Lights Out
we lay open
armed in the relative dark,
our bellies gnashing and moaning
for food, our weak teeth chewing one last
Tootsie pop or Skittle.
We needed more
jaw breaking treats to last like this
mean season gone gracious.
We needed every red-engine knell to slumber
and a neighborhood cease-fire
and then we could wake stoked
to survive—stretch and run
into the All Saints Day dawn.
A poem by Kemi Alabi
Psych Ward Orientation
The night nurse folds gowns like flags atop caskets of the fallen.
The day nurse pours pills like malt liquor dedicated to the slain.
The bathroom doors don’t lock. The dinner knives tickle but do not cut.
They’ll say eat, and your tongue tastes dead flowers.
Muscle can’t weep for the skin--
too food now,
too lemon pepper and salt
to crane towards Mercury through all that fog
and scream, spin right.
They’ll say sleep, and actress, o Jesus’ new body,
the thorns pinning your eyes down heavy,
the yellowed room starring you and the bulb tonight.
They’ll say speak, and don’t dare ask
if they’ve seen your god
tiptoeing the halls,
giggling in closets,
a finger to his lips.
They’ll say speak, and your bandages
poke from your wrists and wink.
They’ll say speak, and your face is a cave
no one creeps inside--
they’ll wait for the hieroglyphs
scratched onto the walls
to be dug up with the rest
of the bones,
and you’ll wait for mistranslation
like any language
refugeed in this empire’s mouth
until your voice is the blueprint
of a conquered city leveled to dust:
the torched fields,
the plundered graves,
the photographs of ghosts.
You seem much better now,
they’ll say. I feel much better now,
says someone who sounds
like you.
Psych Ward Orientation
The night nurse folds gowns like flags atop caskets of the fallen.
The day nurse pours pills like malt liquor dedicated to the slain.
The bathroom doors don’t lock. The dinner knives tickle but do not cut.
They’ll say eat, and your tongue tastes dead flowers.
Muscle can’t weep for the skin--
too food now,
too lemon pepper and salt
to crane towards Mercury through all that fog
and scream, spin right.
They’ll say sleep, and actress, o Jesus’ new body,
the thorns pinning your eyes down heavy,
the yellowed room starring you and the bulb tonight.
They’ll say speak, and don’t dare ask
if they’ve seen your god
tiptoeing the halls,
giggling in closets,
a finger to his lips.
They’ll say speak, and your bandages
poke from your wrists and wink.
They’ll say speak, and your face is a cave
no one creeps inside--
they’ll wait for the hieroglyphs
scratched onto the walls
to be dug up with the rest
of the bones,
and you’ll wait for mistranslation
like any language
refugeed in this empire’s mouth
until your voice is the blueprint
of a conquered city leveled to dust:
the torched fields,
the plundered graves,
the photographs of ghosts.
You seem much better now,
they’ll say. I feel much better now,
says someone who sounds
like you.
A poem by Ricky Orng
Reasons Why You Wish You Could Swim
1) It’s the hottest day in July. You’re at your friends house for a barbecue in which they opened the pool for - and all the cute girls are chilling on the deep end.
2) In case of a zombie apocalypse, swimming will definitely come in handy as a means of traveling and escaping zombie attacks, since theoretically, zombies can’t swim.
3) You are not a zombie!
4) Doggie paddling only seems cute and fun… For the first 5-10 minutes. Anymore after that you will just look sad and pathetic.
5) Your body is approximately three quarters water. Your planet is approximately that in ocean. It feels so familiar and you just want to be a part of something bigger.
6) When you was 7 and went fishing in the harbor, the sudden unfamiliar tug of the line and jerk of the fishing rod was one of many first battles. You felt like your soul was the one caught on the other end - and this back and forth struggle was a magical dance and you didn’t know whether to hold on or let yourself go.
7) When you was 9 years, old you tried skipping a chuck of ice across the frozen lake in your backyard. It didn’t skip. It just sounded like a choir of mermaids.
8) Your body is approximately three quarters water. You ask yourself - how much of you belongs to someone else?
9) She made your heart skipped - and now you’ve been chasing mermaids ever since.
10) It feels like the hottest day in July. And all you want to do is see your friend in a bathing suit!
11) You never flew in your dreams..
12) Swimming must feel like flying..
13) You saw the sky on the face of the harbor and watched your soul danced to the music of the Chesapeake Bay.
14) You think loving someone sometimes feel like swimming. You don’t completely know how to swim but you’ve experience drowning. You just want to have the option.
Reasons Why You Wish You Could Swim
1) It’s the hottest day in July. You’re at your friends house for a barbecue in which they opened the pool for - and all the cute girls are chilling on the deep end.
2) In case of a zombie apocalypse, swimming will definitely come in handy as a means of traveling and escaping zombie attacks, since theoretically, zombies can’t swim.
3) You are not a zombie!
4) Doggie paddling only seems cute and fun… For the first 5-10 minutes. Anymore after that you will just look sad and pathetic.
5) Your body is approximately three quarters water. Your planet is approximately that in ocean. It feels so familiar and you just want to be a part of something bigger.
6) When you was 7 and went fishing in the harbor, the sudden unfamiliar tug of the line and jerk of the fishing rod was one of many first battles. You felt like your soul was the one caught on the other end - and this back and forth struggle was a magical dance and you didn’t know whether to hold on or let yourself go.
7) When you was 9 years, old you tried skipping a chuck of ice across the frozen lake in your backyard. It didn’t skip. It just sounded like a choir of mermaids.
8) Your body is approximately three quarters water. You ask yourself - how much of you belongs to someone else?
9) She made your heart skipped - and now you’ve been chasing mermaids ever since.
10) It feels like the hottest day in July. And all you want to do is see your friend in a bathing suit!
11) You never flew in your dreams..
12) Swimming must feel like flying..
13) You saw the sky on the face of the harbor and watched your soul danced to the music of the Chesapeake Bay.
14) You think loving someone sometimes feel like swimming. You don’t completely know how to swim but you’ve experience drowning. You just want to have the option.