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Post by embowman on Jun 2, 2014 20:53:26 GMT 8
In the studio, my body remembers something ancient. Where I came from, where I go back to. I will remind myself to relax; I will yield into soft places. Rooted to these groundless dimensions of this giant endless fabric, where lungs breathing in-spires me before sleeping. It is not functional; it’s a special kind of lunacy that arises. A liquid timeless-time. In search for the origin - And for love.
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Post by serena on Jun 5, 2014 20:58:43 GMT 8
The soft rising and falling of breath calling my body back to refind the place where roots once clung to particles of the earth as if they were gold
tides gently spill over your feet
a lone gull flying over ancient land
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Post by Ashleigh Berry on Jun 7, 2014 22:03:44 GMT 8
Yielding to soft places,
the spaces that cushion the fallen.
I need to get out of here.
I want to feel the wet on my skin, smell the hot wind.
let it sting my lungs to breathe.
do not cushion my fall.
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Post by Jacq on Jun 8, 2014 20:22:47 GMT 8
I laugh I cry I breath I come from a time long ago I endure I love
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Post by Admin on Jun 9, 2014 21:25:35 GMT 8
my body remembers. I will remind myself, that, groundless dimensions where lungs breathing in-spires It is not functional; it’s a special kind of lunacy that arises. A liquid timeless-time. In search for
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Post by kathleen on Jun 9, 2014 21:31:56 GMT 8
breath in-spires lungs yield to soft ancient giant fabric roots in a state of liquid lunacy
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Post by michelle on Jun 10, 2014 19:13:58 GMT 8
I wrote each clause onto pieces of paper and cut them out to rearrange. Directional and place-related words made me want to be able to shift them in space.
First play And for love, in the studio, I will remind myself to relax. Rooted to these groundless dimensions of this giant endless fabric; a liquid timeless time, It's a special kind of lunacy that arises. My body remembers something ancient, Where lungs breathing in-spires me before sleeping. It is not functional. I will yield into soft places. Where I came from, where i go back to. In search for the origin
Second play that arises. It's a special kind of lunacy I will remind myself to relax. In the studio I will yield it is not functional into soft places where Lungs breathing in-spires me before sleeping. And for love. A liquid Timeless-time
My body remembers something Ancient. Where I came from, where I go back to In search for the Origin
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Post by daisysanders on Jun 16, 2014 22:46:23 GMT 8
ancient (ourselves before our time) yeild (surrender, fruitcake, I think her name's Renae) groundless dimensions, endless fabric (the compilations of existence) in-spires (the illumination of a church steeple built tall) lunacy (inevitable) origin (unknown)
and for love and for love and for love
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Post by isabellamay on Jun 23, 2014 20:53:48 GMT 8
A memory arises and is welcomed. It throws me back to some place that feels familiar, i can taste it, feel myself fall forwards into it. As i fall, i soften My eyes searching for the excitement and electricity of love. A crazy love for myself, for another, for life.
This love is a lunatic, certain, familiar, engulfing and comforting, a memory so rich its real.
It lives in my bones, muscles and body's fibres, carried in my blood. Arrises as i begin to awaken my body and welcome my dance.
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