Tag Archives: Maya Deren

Bone Jig

My mother’s bones. My mother’s bones resounding in my ears piercing my eardrums. Death rattle of the dusty gourd. Of the earth’s grief calling to us to restore. Calling upon us to become wardens attendants to vibrations crossing passages. To … Continue reading

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Window

Withdrawal intends its own wan truth and fading– Twilight becomes her.   (Meshes of the Afternoon, Maya Deren, 1943)

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It’s a Kind of Magic

Crafting from a wordless place, the Sorcerer’s stones became young girls trying to escape the grip of an audience that preyed on magic and cinema.   (Image by Maya Deren)

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Draft

There are no mirrors here, yet everywhere I see myself, a bated draft of furls, each bearing the right to exist, and respire ably.

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Meshes

Liquid net of glass, meshes court supplest longing– Dreams brace thinnest air.

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Endanger

Savior, how we endanger mirrors without further reflection.

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