The first poem I post is almost the blog's namesake. Written after my second contact improvisation class & jam in Amsterdam this (academic) year:
•
In Contact (IC)
In Contact
I see the humours
moving fluidly within
the men
and women
dancing
Especially the sanguine
humour, the one
we still believe in, in
spite of all the Science
Blood blushing the cheeks
blood rushing the limbs
blood swinging
back and forth
back and forth
to the percussive
heartbeat of endorphins:
the endorphic humour
flows within the men
and the women
flows within me
despite all the rules that Science put down
like rabid dogs
despite all the people
put down like
dogs
even as we dance
and smile
and what did dogs do
to deserve such proverbial ill?
•
The alternate ending strophe to this poem, which I favoured over this one these past few weeks but seem to have changed my mind, was simply:
our soul is black as bile
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