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PATRICE MILLER
Tea & Numbers I dreamed I was Michelangelo and David asked me what I saw in him. and I couldn't explain it, and I couldn't comprehend it myself. so I replied with a simple bit about the lines in his face about the composition of humanity in his legs -- "there will be time," I muttered. -and found myself again with tea across the table from a white bearded man who spoke of flight, of wings, who spoke of walking on water and saving the human race, of the proportion of space. "there will be time," I again muttered to the idealist to a dropping face. "Time is of the essence, I imagine," he said sipping. and I drew a line. "My time is in my lines, they are numbered," I replied. "We have made life an art," he observed. I drew another line and found myself among angels under a curved ceiling, my time expanding with the arcs of wings "There will be time," I muttered, breathing space between creation and creator. There will be time. Patrice is a young poet and choreographer still feeling for her roots and enjoying every inch of discovery. She grew up in suburban Long Island and migrated to New York City to work, work work. Patrice currently is studying creative writing and dance on scholarship at Hunter College. She likes to think that she read too much as a child and blames T.S. Eliot for showing her the light (and dark) and Pearl Primus for showing her how to bend it. Patrice is an explorer, and can often be caught climbing Central Park's rocks. She hopes to someday run an multi/inter-disciplinary arts company so that she and others may forever dare. |
© 2005 Underground Voices |
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