1
It is strange to hear my words Read back to me. I don't think I wrote them To have them ever leave the page. I think I only write What happens across my brain When my feet are too weary To dance anymore.Stasia Ward Kehoe
2
Do I dare ask him for what I want, As if I knew it, Could find it on some page In some chapter In some book?Stasia Ward Kehoe
3
Does it matter that people and things Have words, Have names? If not, Why read any book? A litany of useless letters Detached from bone, muscle. Or are words the only things that make the muscle, bone, memory, movement, Person Real?Stasia Ward Kehoe
4
Dare I tell them that since I came here to dance I have been giving pieces of my body away To ridiculous diets, To repeated injuries, To Remington?And that maybe I think With each bit of my body I lose a little piece of my soulStasia Ward Kehoe
5
I've a long time trying to lovea brother whose only way of touching me is pain. A long time escaping into music. Practice, lessons, rehearsals that protect mefrom the hurting parts of life. I've been winning awards, applause, acclaim for my trumpets since I was in grade sStasia Ward Kehoe
6
Life is a big story. Music is just one way to tell it, to realize how many tales all kinds of people share.Stasia Ward Kehoe
7
The dusty library air is electric with secrets/ almost palpable in the thick quiet that bounces between/ Cal and those books and meStasia Ward Kehoe
8
I feel his arm Lightly Over me. He takes one of my outstretched hands. Draws it beneath my stomach." One more time..." This is not sex, Not friendship. SomethingStrangeSpecialIn the stillness of his breath, The waterlike way he moves. He is making a dance. We are making a dance.Stasia Ward Kehoe
9
Four laughs vibrate in harmony, Warm Delicious Real.Stasia Ward Kehoe