Cunningham Dancer

Some little girls grow up, and dream of becoming a Prima Ballerina. Often, in their minds, this is a mystical creature-adult, an almost impossible feat to enact and become, but a goal nonetheless. Some boys wish to become a Star Quarterbacks. Here, this is the same deal, a quarterback is a conglomeration of a rarity of skill, talent, and ability—yet the character, the role, the person, the idea is still a goal. These “personhood/career” goals are interesting to me, because they serve an individual with a source of motivation, and focus for work.

For me, my “Prima Ballerina” is a Cunningham Dancer. Not Merce himself, no, but “a Cunningham Dancer”—to me that is someone of great focus, skill, commitment (to Merce’s intense processes, and then some…), clarity, unadornment, intellectualism, athleticism, eloquence and focus. A Cunningham Dancer is generous with his or her soul, and is open and committed to line, curve, clarity, and he or she is absent of distraction—because, they are distraction, they are art, a prime artifact of human expression and potential.

Sometimes I think of all the great Cunningham dancers, and in my mind, I put them together to create a sort-of mythic being of “Cunningham Dancer”—a role for me to aspire to, for motivation and focus. I like to think of myself as a dancer in pursuit of being a Cunningham Dancer. Though I know the company is disbanded, and technically it is impossible to be such a dancer, I still think it is possible in my heart and practice. And, that is good.

With love,

Cuauhtemoc

Bien Glitter Betch

They had thought I liked to party.
Because they met me at the bar.
An After Party of a show, or performance, concert, or mitote.....
They assumed, there, was where the party was...
They arrived late.
Before my arrival, there was no party.
Before my arrival, it was just a bar.
So they partied with me, and we played in the moonlight.
Stardust a plenty, and I remained sober.
They assumed I was a party boy.
They assumed I needed that stardust to survive.
My glitter is what they ate that night.
The stardust was there because of me.
I taught them glitter.
So where do I belong? Where am I from?
An Ivory tower. Solitude. Vision, Creativity, Imagination. A studio & study. A Laboratory.
My home is not the bar--my home is an empty space.
What you tasted was the afterglow and afterbirth of my dance.
The uranium from the reservation of my mind.
You still glow my friend.
Radioactive glitter is hard to extinguish.

Lillies

At 4:30 a.m. you rise move in the arms and legs that trapped you. You sighed affirming the sculptured man and make yourself a bath of dark musk oil Egyptian crystals and Florida water to remove his smell to wash away the glitter to watch the butterflies melt into suds. And the rhinestones fall beneath her buttocks like smooth pebbles in a Missouri creek lay in water. You become yourself, ordinary brown braided woman with big legs and full lips regular. And the ones who fall prey to the dazzle of hips painted with orange blossoms and magnolia scented wrists had wanted no more than to lay between her sparklin thighs. And had planned on leavin before dawn. And you had been so divine devastatingly bizarre the way your mouth fit round. And now you stand a regular colored girl fulla the same malice livid indifference as a sistah worn from supportin a would-be horn player. But then you gather your tinsel and jewels from the tub. And laugh gayly or vengeful you stored your silk roses by your bed. And when you finished writin the account of her exploit in a diary embroidered with lilies and moonstones. You place the rose behind your ear and cried yourself to sleep.

eyes of tlaloc

The eyes of Tlaloc 
Filled with water my sacred 
I love you dearly

Glitter Betch

They had thought I liked to party.
Because they met me at the bar.
An After party of a show, performance, concert, mitote.....
They assumed, there, was where the party was.
They arrived late.
Before my arrival, there was no party.
Before my arrival, it was just a bar.
So they partied with me, and we played in the moonlight.
Stardust a plenty, and I remained sober.
They assumed I was a party boy.
They assumed I needed that dust to survive.
My glitter is what they ate that night.
And it is mine, everlasting, endless, glitter.
My home was not there.
Glitter was not there.
I was there, the stardust was there because of me.
I taught them glitter.
So where do I belong? Where am I from?
An Ivory tower.
Solitude.
Vision, Creativity, Imagination.
A studio & study.
A Laboratory.
My home is not the bar--my home is an empty space.
What you tasted was the afterglow and afterbirth of my dance.
The uranium from the reservation of my mind.
You still glow my friend.
Radioactive glitter is hard to extinguish.

New Year

1) Be a Great Dancer, Choreographer, Artist.
2) Be a Great Teacher, Mentor, Instructor.
3) Follow the 4 Agreements of the Toltecs.
4) Release my Heart and Emotions for balance.
5) Gracefully Navigate the Topography of Society.

--These are my New Year's Resolutions....

dancer lion

"A dancer without a stage, is a lion free from the coliseum" --Haydehn Tuipulotu