What would you do if you were a shoe?

Take a peak into the creative minds of Earthdance staff. How do we paint the landscapes of our world with words? Earthdance staff share poetry from our childhood through the present day. 

What would you do?

What would you do if you were a shoe
Left all alone in the morning dew?
Would you stroll in the meadow?
Or skip in the park?
Would you look for the other shoe?
Or would you rather not? 

A shoe, you say?
How could it be?
Why, yes! Of course! It has to be!
Don't run away anymore!
I've looked for you from here to shore.
No, one shoe is not enough.
With just one shoe, you must be tough!

--Sarah Young (at age 9)
 

Clear Glimpse

When the air is sharp and hollow
And the buildings shut up in their sleep,
And the slanted roof shingles reflect the daylight
To bounce it off to the clouds,
That’s when I feel that the world
Does not end with the trees but goes thoroughly to the sky.
The crows call in the mountains
With far reaching sounds and I’m reminded of Time over Now.
What does one like me offer this world
When my thoughts cannot ruffle a day?

--Lindsay Swan
 

I Know

I’m in a sticky place
and yes I know

You want to help
but your lips taste 

None of my lemon oil
because your face is

Tangy paint
gleaming like dishwater

----------------------

And yes I know
it's harrowing

To peel it off
your skin
 
But I need for you
to see that glutenous

Sap lies
behind my portholes
 
--Lindsay Swan
 

Johnny Man

Johnny man had the clearest intention
Kissed my knuckles and performed an ablution
Rapped his lips and let the shells roll out
Hung them on my ovarian gout
And after an hour when my knuckles were clean
Found a pen and rapped it on my spleen
Rapped 'til the end of the gritty night
Then smiled to incantate the light
 
--Lindsay Swan

Untitled

Thursdays on the lawn
We sing each other folk songs
And slap our thighs against our palms
And rub each other numb
 
--Lindsay Swan
 

Fall Drawl

The crisp and crunch and munch
of air and leaves and sweet

tree fruit

gurgling down my throat
swirling with smoke

waters my eyes with
la nostalgie

I am so free to be

--Kelsey Hobbs
 

Sundays

Something opens a door
And my wrinkled mass floods with tar

--Kelsey Hobbs
 

Axe and Fiber

Feeling the arc
Sharp mark

I gust my waves
to that needlepoint of climax

Satisfaction

Clean crunch and splintering fiber friction
Nestles in my eardrum
Whispering hurrahs

And this rooky is hooked

--Kelsey Hobbs
 

To Know Myself By Heart

To feel it's all true
the hurt, the lies, the warmth, 
the confusion that rests like a bulbous cloud of fluff 
drawing me into its sweet murkiness,
whipped cream puffs that hide the richness below.
I can dive down and suck it all in
submerging myself in the sappiness of the unknown
and emerging out of the swirling drunkenness to breathe in light again
that casts a shadow on my former self.
 
I look around to see the new landscape
the peaks and valleys, river and forests,
growth and decay,
and go back up and down again
into new territories that beg to be devoured 
by the pulse of becoming delighted 
in my fullness.

--Hilary Lake

 

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