PAD/ 016 – origins II

grandmother’s hands could pull down the stars

to nestle along her crooked spine

to shine whenever she bent to skim the water

to shine through our bloodlines as we push into the thick nights

of black fire and thirsty moves/ our deep brown faces /we won’t stand still/

stars in her spine

to shine through the archive of dance as we tear shit up / to feel/ to conjure stars

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