 |
| From Myra Melford's Snowy Egret at The Jazz Gallery |
Myra’s bubble
like squeezing a bubble
from the top of a shampoo bottle
slowly
slowly
slowly
draw the fingers in toward the palm
gently
gently
gently
waiting for the inevitable burst
air through the dream-thin membrane
it will never happen
exactly
this way
again
it can’t be accurately described
or recreated / can’t be
passed down the line from
mother to child
there is no line
there is only this NOW
the only-ever-all bubble
the one that will
always
get away
/ / /
I wrote this poem tonight while listening to (and watching) Myra Melford’s new project, “Snowy Egret,” at The Jazz Gallery in New York. The photo above is of the dancer, Oguri, in front of the band. The music and dance were stunning. I felt lucky to be there and tried to capture the sense of tension and impermanence of the performance in this poem.
Comments