I've always spent most of my life
with artists of one kind or another,
and so I wrote a poem with four little parts describing
four kinds of artists, one day when I got sort of mad
at them all.
This is called "Tendencies We Have Already Seen."
First part is for dancers.
Entering naked in your toe shoes,
you say you'll take everything away
except your own exquisite self.
Yet your Japanese face, your Italian breath,
your Swedish shoulders, and your Indian feet all
fall in different directions.
A multiracial audience applauds you.
The Japanese like your face.
The Italians your breath.
The Swedish your shoulders.
And the Indians your feet.
But each would cut off his portion
and throw away the rest.
Thus, your naked body fights with itself,
not knowing which factions to please.