And her arms snake
through the air
like the curling smoke
gently rising off
the tip of the cigarette
laying in a plastic
black ash tray

She paints the melody
in diaphanous  air
through the tips
of her fingers
languid and watery

The rhythm pulses
with her steady
feet declaring
the passage of time

Body throbbing
with the music
possessed to move
with the vigorous

united, one
with the sound
Dancer and music
are not separate
but flow connected
as damp newborn
Spring pours itself
into naked Summer.


2 Responses to “Flamenca”

  1. 2009/11/27 at 5:02 am

    Good imagery. This poem reminds me of Rilke’s “Spanish Dancer”: http://picture-poems.com/rilke/new.html#Spanish%20Dancer

    • 2009/11/27 at 7:08 pm

      Thank you for the comment. I do see the similarity. Isn’t it funny that I have never read that poem before. Too interesting to find this. If you do not mind my asking, how did you find me? Just curious. Thanks!

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