Festival

If I was going to describe Victoria’s spoken word festival

I’d start with Missie’s eyes

Happy proud

Pixie bright eyes that see through today

Into a tomorrow of a possibility

Then I’d move on to talk about words made flesh

Words transcendent into moves and movement

I’d mention Mike McGee and his elemental intensity

I’d talk about the merging of ideas

Synchronicity

Recombinant expeditions into the territory called creation

I’d talk about self-sacrifice

Of giving up to get it in

I’d talk about dancing poets

Who flow their limbs into rhythms

Listening to sounds through heart-filtered beats

Abandoning safety and expected

For impulses and muses

Who move tongues and feet

Into the beat

If I was going to describe the festival

I’d speak rapture of the deep

Following signs into the unknown that warn of danger

Because poets like to go there

I’d unmask motivations and hidden delights

I’d describe impermanently perfect performances

Punctuated by fingersnaps and the approbation of crowds

If I was going to describe the festival

I’d end with applause

 

 

David Trudel       © 2013

 

 

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