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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