For those who have loved

For those who have loved 

and the small things surrounding it 

deep down in you soul

you know you need it 

The diamonds and rings 

still don't mean a thing 

with out the love 

Together or apart 

the cracks will get filled in 

Dried-up and rusty 

but your eyes meet again 

You share that moment 

and the pieces fall back together 

picture perfect once again 

Things may not be patched-up 

however

for those who have loved 

you know it will all happen again

Found

How sad the first tries. 

And the rejections. 

The rejection becomes the reason for dancing. 

The same kind of dance. 

A different love jumps from the stage. 

Your life, your work, your hopes and thoughts and songs and breath. 

Nothing would be better, sweeter than that moment. 

I would tell you, to make the hair go up on the back of your neck. 

Dancing is... everything... to me. 

Spent most of it starving. 

And if somebody had told me back then that I would come to love it. 

Love the whole dance of it. 

The way the stories dance. 

The thing that pushes me to dance;

I dance from my life. 

A feeling of wonderful newness and expectations. 

So much of dancing is so tenuous, 

so fragile, 

that in my own work I try not to pick at it

for fear of damaging it. 

The unending thrill of being a part of this dance. 

I come from...

Four different states, all growing corn tall 

a warm home with cherry wood covering the wall 

bikes, skateboards, and ramps cluttering the lawn

laying by the pool with a good book hiding a yawn 

dinner at the kitchen table

where a couple of little brothers are usually telling a fable 

an unspoken love growing more each day 

support and comfort no matter what I say 

reading, teaching, and learning 

always wanting to be dancing 

honesty, courage, and being loud

working to make them proud 

My parents, my brothers, and myself 

a family cherishing a different kind of wealth