a movement poem

i've been here before

dropped into the flow

what happens when i do this

and this

and this

and this

endless curiosity

play

the unknown

it's why i show up on the dancefloor

again

and again

and again

why i'd dance every day

if i could

i could

but i don't every day

some days i can't find the could between

the lines on the computer screen

the lines for the 196

the lines on the sidewalk

the lines i've drawn in the sand

as to what productive work looks like

as to what i'm supposed to be doing

as to what makes me a respectable, contributing member of society

worthy

of?

worthy

worth something

and really i know it's bullshit

every time i dance

and find space around the stories

the drama

the smallness i can so easily fall into of what life is, what i am, what this is

and instead move freely in that space

where worth morphs into the unknown

where every line my body makes

is full

and beautiful

and worth it all