Vignettes Inspired by Pina Bausch

PART I  IN TEN SCENES

Agony cavorts nightly at the bar
while songs divulge lost dreams
and broken expectations.
Notes clatter to the floor
as waiters wobble.Tables and
stools collapse. Patrons continue
to enter careful not to step on
limbs and organs lying there.

************************

Outside garlands festoon the roadway.
A girl in gray chiffon pirouettes along the avenue.
With her eyes shut, she sings lieder in toe shoes.
People move beside her forming a border to
her dance steps.

*************************

Random meets chaos forming art in the café.
lines overlay patterns –  abstractions of shapes
dissolving to nothing then reforming as something
else. Their shadows rise and fall disappearing
after they slither down the walls, moving to the
drum beat, they squat beneath occupied tables.

**************************

Blond man stands on an orange crate,
orders:
“Dance happy as trains
loud as a dog that’s barking
JaZZ at linden trees.”

His blue eyes pierce the grayness
shining like moonlight on a saxophone.
An old couple rumbas on a black lacquer floor.
Their hips transpose rhythms to signals.
Their movement transform time
into the value of pi.

Circles flatten
Spheres become cubes
the scene changes:

Sun drenched
the ballerina rotates in arabesque
(blood red) on a platform……………..
a clock flies by
a train stops
movement          glass
    design                            light
       structure                                 liquid

A green dress ripples and flows

**************************

En pointe she lifts factories
She pulls down dictators
Her hair reaches up to the gate that reads:
Arbeit macht frei”
The smokestacks are quiet
Their shapes darken our history

**************************

Their trails crossed
Their shoes multiplied
They drank French and Russian
from pottery cups
fired at 1300 degrees centigrade.

Meeting in skyscrapers
and on underground trains
noise wrapped them from view
yet branches of trees were
hung with silence.
Ancient fish awoke to
swim again.

**************************

Men began to fan their tails of a million eyes.
Girls hid all but their eyes behind large lace fans.
In a high school cafeteria,  a heavy black curtain
hides academic sins.

****************************

Workmen crowd at shop windows
Staring at undressed mannequins
Secretly they coveted their sisters’ dolls
and dreampt of undressing them.

The dolls could not sing, recite poetry,
skip rope, or turn cart-wheels.
They could never run away,
refuse them or call them names.
No fierce warriors, bringers of light
(or darkness)
They only open and close
their eyes and nod their heads.

**************************

I wake
covered with strings
Behind us roars a waterfall
A river below us leads to some sea
What puppet-master dances me there?

**************************

Red shoes stomp
Palms mop the floor
Paso dobles wrinkle with heat

**************************

Dressed in black
she dances through her pain
her stomach’s riddled with holes
swastikas plague her steps in vain.

The wall behind’s alive with the art
of Diego Rivera- guitars strumming
flamenco. Her dress outlines all
resistance.

November men balance on beams.
The light shifts
they live their dance before they fall.

*****************************

 

 

 

 

Last Winter

Winter icicles stretch roof to hedge.
Squirrels burrow beneath snow-covered leaves
for ungathered acorns. Texas snow is fleeting –
they’re never prepared. They chase each other
shaking off the dusty snow. Up trees, over roofs
their blood is up and their appetites excited.
Spring comes early..and so do little ones.
I watch them racing past late blooming roses
and a single flowering quince.

*   *   *

Our aging shrub blooms.
The dying season cuts short
the hope for bouquets.

© Gay Reiser Cannon * All Rights Reserved

My first haibun.  Hope it qualifies. I have written haiku for years..but still fall short of the mark.

In The Time Of Sand

I came from the dirt
in the time of sand.
Picked from our teeth
before and after meals,
sand sifted out of the air
each night to clear the way
for starlight.

The wind howled at the moon,
the sand-drifts covered
loam, rocks, tarry clay,
and scratchy white caliche.
It often burned but I didn’t
witness the glow.

My cousins and I played
marbles, baseball, dolls in it
kicking the sand that filled
our shoes, stuck to our skin,
and more. Moving, it hid
the broken and the whole.

Blinded eyes knew sand
shielded  monsters from the light,
piled up in front of locked doors.
Gypsies stole the keys and brooms.

Coyotes howled,
tracked through it
knew the moon
saw truth but wouldn’t tell.

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 1/7/2016 * All Rights Reserved