Editor’s note: The following illustrations were created by Camille Taft for the spring/summer 2022 print publication of Stance on Dance. Camille’s only direction was to create something related to dance and movement. Enjoy!

i found you swollen and scraped, scattered in pieces

Mixed media, pen and graphite on paper, and digital editing

Bodies are messy, grimy, grotesque, tuned, complex, specific, and unruly. Often, our relationship to our own is much the same. That relationship is informed by intersections of gender, disability, race, positionality, and perception, among much else. I created this piece with the idea that we often meet each other as an accumulation of layered gestures and symbols. I think one type of love is to meet each other with honor towards the uncertain, scattered pieces of ourselves.

~~

Here Again, Again

Graphite on paper

I drew this during a practice with a few others where we stayed in the same house but stayed wholly silent for two days. I was struck by how unfamiliar it felt to make decisions uninfluenced by obligation, routine, or internal pressure. The two days in themselves were a luxury to be sure; they compelled me to investigate what draws me to do anything: to speak, to doodle, to dance, to love, to act. I hope to be compelled from a rooted place, continuously met anew.

~~

A Thickness in My Sternum

Watercolor on paper

Once a day, usually in the morning, my sternum pops. It feels like this.

~~

Camille Taft, a Colorado front range-based mover and visual artist, is obsessed with texture, noise, and motion. Their training spans from the San Francisco Conservatory of Dance and Gibney Dance Center in New York to various projects with Colorado-based artists, not least of which being dancing, planting seeds, and drawing with their housemates. Their primary dreams consist of communal dance and somatic practices informed by disability justice, liberation, and the earth. Follow them on Instagram @si.l.t.

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This year marks Stance on Dance’s 10th birthday. In honor of the occasion (and a bit of a coincidence as well), I am pleased to announce that Stance on Dance has become a nonprofit and received 501c3 status. Stance on Dance’s nonprofit mission is to educate the dance community and wider audiences about dance from the perspective of underrepresented voices and access points. One way my board and I are fulfilling our mission is by launching a twice-yearly print publication that features and supports more dance writers and thus shares more perspectives. We will also distribute copies to dance educational institutions and to our donors who make this possible.

Allow me to wax philosophic about how Stance on Dance got to this point. I started Stance on Dance as a blog in 2012. As a freelance dancer in the San Francisco Bay Area at the time, I felt frustrated with the ways dance was written about. It was often written about by people without a deep knowledge of the artform, it was often review and preview oriented (and the show is but the tip of the iceberg), and it tended to follow the money and cover major ballet and modern companies while overlooking the varied world of freelance artists who pour their energy (and often their earnings) into making their art exist.

My idea was simple enough: I would publish interviews with fellow dance artists in the San Francisco Bay Area as well as solicit and edit content from colleagues. The blog often had a tone of being “on the ground,” as opposed to the more formal reviews and previews I contributed to various publications around San Francisco. I took pride in it being by and for dance artists. I published content once to twice a week, and it generally consisted of interviews conducted by me, essays by various colleagues, cartoons drawn by my roommate Maggie Stack satirizing the dance world, and music recommendations by my friend Jake Padilla. As time went on, my friend Ryan Kelley wrote drink recommendations to pair with various shows, a calendar listing with a twist.

From the get go, I loved producing content about dance and organizing an editorial calendar. And while the bawdy cartoons and drink recommendations were fun, it was the interviews with various dance artists that gained the most traction. I had an affinity for writing, but I was by no means a trained journalist. I was a dancer. As a result of Stance on Dance’s growth during that first year, I started to look into graduate programs in arts journalism. Around the same time, the cost of living in San Francisco started to skyrocket due to the tech bubble, and I felt trapped as a dancer barely making ends meet. I decided my time in San Francisco had come to a close.

In 2013, I entered a master’s program in Arts Journalism at the University of Southern California on scholarship and, through moving to Los Angeles, Stance on Dance began to cover artists beyond the Bay Area. As I developed a more journalistic tone, the blog became more professional in its coverage, transforming from a site that was mostly circulated amongst colleagues, to an online publication that was beginning to command a serious readership. My master’s thesis was a redevelopment of Stance on Dance with a sleek redesign, a more engaged social media presence, and employment of metrics to track and understand readership.

In 2013, I also began working on what would become the book Beauty is Experience: Dancing 50 and Beyond, where I interviewed more than 50 dance artists over the age of 50 up and down the West Coast. I worked with Portland based photographer Gregory Bartning, who beautifully captured each interviewee. Our goal was to showcase the beauty and form in a dancer of any age, as well as to demonstrate how artistry enrichens with time. The compilation was published as a hardcover book in 2017.

After graduate school, I had the amazing opportunity to travel to South Africa to cover the National Arts Festival for Cue Newspaper, a printed daily arts newspaper that existed for the duration of the festival. Aside from the experience being a cultural whirlwind, I also began to appreciate for the first time how different print is from online content. Instead of an endless vertical scroll, themes could be developed across articles with the aid of good design. The reader’s attention is also different, with more sustained focus, as opposed to distraction after receiving notifications on a device. One day during my time in South Africa, I outlined a plan for a print version of Stance on Dance. Of course, I had graduate school debt, no job, and I didn’t even know where I would live next, but the seed was planted.

Upon returning to the states, I moved to Santa Fe, NM, and took a job as the editor of Fine Lifestyles Santa Fe, a glossy magazine that covered restaurants and shops in town. I didn’t care much for the content, but I relished the experience of working closely with a team of writers, photographers, sales reps, and designers to produce a print magazine. I took careful notes on the process, always having in the back of my mind that one day I might apply these skills to a print version of Stance on Dance.

Throughout grad school, my time in South Africa, and my time in Santa Fe working for the magazine, I continued to produce weekly (and often bi-weekly) content for Stance on Dance. As a result of working on the dancing over 50 book project as well as through my various experiences post graduate school, Stance on Dance increasingly became devoted to elevating the voices of those who are often marginalized in the dance world. These include older dancers, dancers of color, dancers who identify as LGBTQ, dancers who have a disability, fat dancers, dancers who live outside major metropolitan areas, women in leadership positions, dancers working outside well-funded institutions, and dancers who practice forms outside the Western canon. Through focusing on perspectives that have traditionally been marginalized in dance journalism, Stance on Dance found its footing as a journal where ideas and ways of working that challenge the status quo are covered and celebrated.

In 2017, I embarked on a second book project, this time in collaboration with Austin/Finland based dance educator Silva Laukkanen, interviewing professional dancers with disabilities. Breadth of Bodies: Discussing Disability in Dance came out this spring 2022 and features 35 professional dancers with disabilities in 15 countries. Through our interviews, Silva and I deepened our knowledge of problematic stereotypes, barriers to education, access issues, and terminology preferences. These interviews are accompanied with whimsical illustrations by San Francisco based artist Liz Brent-Maldonado.

That brings us to the present. After years of publishing weekly online content covering dance artists from many practices and places, Stance on Dance is excited to announce the launch of a twice-a-year print publication that will further promote dance and the many perspectives of its practitioners. This first issue features an interview by Sophia Diehl with dance movement therapist Giulia Carotenuto, an essay by Katie Flashner on relocating her life and dance practice from southern California to Maine, an essay by Cherie Hill on advocating for equity in dance spaces, an essay by Bhumi Patel on decolonizing praxis, three original dance inspired illustrations by Camille Taft, and an interview by Nikhita Winkler with French dance artist Illan Riviere. I also have contributed an interview with Miami-based choreographer Pioneer Winter on his intergenerational and physically integrated dance company, and an interview (translated and facilitated by Lorie House) with Colombian butoh artist Brenda Polo and her collaborators who are studying the effects of butoh on the brain. We will eventually publish all this content on stanceondance.com, but I believe the design and opportunity for more sustained reading brings the content to life in a different, hopefully more enjoyable, way.

Where will you read your copy of Stance on Dance? And will you share it with your friends?

I hope you will consider supporting Stance on Dance in this exciting new format by helping spread the word or becoming a donor/subscriber. Many thanks to those of you who have supported and followed Stance on Dance in its many iterations over the past decade!

~~

To donate to support dance journlism and recieve two issues of Stance on Dance in print a year, visit stanceondance.com/support.

To learn more about the Spring/Summer 2022 issue or to order a single copy, visit stanceondance.com/print-publication.

The post Stance on Dance’s Journey to Print appeared first on Stance on Dance.

When I went to college for a BFA in Ballet at the University of Utah from 2004 to 2007, my technique requirements (to the best of my memory) were the following: ballet and pointe every day for every semester, modern dance twice a week for two semesters, jazz dance twice a week for two semesters, and character dance twice a week for two semesters. While my BFA was specifically in Ballet and not in Dance more generally, the same basic recipe for training dancers has continued in many of the elite dance programs around the country for decades.

While in college, I also discovered an Afro Brazilian dance class at a community center downtown. I’d take it once every few weeks when I wasn’t too bogged down with homework or too busy rehearsing for a show. I loved it. Aside from the atmosphere being a complete inverse from the strict hierarchical environment in the dance department, it was also a fun challenge to attempt the complex rhythms and very different ways of moving my body. And as much as I loved the ballet class accompanists with their piano riffs on musicals and ballet variations, the drumming was a more visceral throb than the calm chords in ballet class.

I’m not saying that ballet is ethereal and African forms are of-the-earth, because I think that’s an oversimplification that does neither justice. What I am saying is the community Afro Brazilian class complemented and augmented my training in ways I didn’t know how to appreciate at the time.

Fast forward about 10 years, I moved to Santa Fe in late 2014 after years of pursuing contemporary dance in the Bay Area. I heard about a Haitian/West African class in town and was immediately excited to give it a try. I ended up loving it. Attending the class two to three times a week became as much a part of my weekly dance regimen as going to ballet class. To this day, I find myself joyfully returning as often as possible to the Haitian/West African class.

I fell in love with ballet early and deeply, and I still love it, though of course that love has evolved. But growing up in the ballet world isn’t the most joyful of experiences. That’s not to say that other dance forms aren’t highly competitive and rigorous, but there’s a specific culture in ballet of restraint and austerity that does not lend itself to loving one’s body or feeling encouraged toward confidence. I’m sure the culture around other dance forms – including non-Western dance forms – isn’t perfect, but wouldn’t a young dancer benefit from having exposure to many modes of expression in order to explore what forms they feel most empowered and excited by? What are young dancers training for if not to find a range of expression and agency?

The other, and perhaps more important, reason young dancers should be exposed to and required to train in multiple forms from many areas of the globe is for the simple reason that the Western focused training I underwent is problematic. There is no objective argument that ballet or modern dance trains pre-professional dancers better than any other form. This division of Western forms versus “ethnic forms” has an air of racism to it. Ballet and modern dance are as much a product of society, history, and culture as any other dance form, as has long been researched and documented. However, it is only in the past few years that some college dance programs have begun to rethink their curriculums and hire tenure-track dance teachers who specialize in dance forms other than ballet and modern. Why are these college dance programs changing their tune now?

From my perspective, the short answer is George Floyd. The Black Lives Matter protests of 2020 made institutions take a hard look at their programming, resulting in several dance programs seeking to hire tenure-track Afro diasporic and other previously considered “ethnic” dance teachers. These same teachers are now teaching required courses, as opposed to electives. Of course, there are plenty of dance training programs still entrenched in Western preeminence, but I wanted to take a close look at this opening of college dance curriculum, particularly toward Afro diasporic dance forms, and to talk to those who are at the forefront of making this shift.

Over the next several weeks, Stance on Dance is publishing interviews with Afro diasporic dance professors in colleges across the US. Their perspectives make clear that while some college dance programs are initiating curriculum requirements other than Western classical dance, there are still cultural and institutional hurdles in achieving equity.

I get excited when I see dance institutions questioning rather than reinforcing the status quo. Though I sometimes lament what my dance training could have been had I grown up 20 years later, I’m glad to see these shifts happen, and I am thankful for the small exposures I have had in other dance forms. It continues to enrich and excite me. I hope the dancers of tomorrow persist in fueling this more equitable approach toward dance education and scholarship, and in doing so, I look forward to watching the dance world reshape itself globally and culturally.

Illustration by Camille Taft

~~

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Welcome to the end of 2020. Take a bow. You have made it through an incredibly difficult year. Our sense of normal has been thrown out the window, and with it, what little security existed in the dance field. The performing arts in general have been especially hard hit. For dance artists, it’s become almost impossible to do what we do.

The view from the window (the one normal was thrown out of) looks both bleak and hopeful from where I sit. As I write this, coronavirus case numbers are skyrocketing as we head into what looks like a difficult and isolating winter. But there are a handful of vaccines developed that will eventually be distributed and Trump is headed out of office. I am worried about what’s to come in the next few months with hospitals full and a fraught transition of presidential power, but I am optimistic that in the long run the events of 2020 will bring about needed change.

I wanted to know what the dance field will look like post new normal, so I reached out to the leaders of major dance organizations across the country to find out how they have navigated this past year and what they foresee will be the impact of 2020. I interviewed the directors of Dance/USA, Dancers’ Group in the Bay Area, Dance Resource Center in Los Angeles, Boston Dance Alliance, and DanceATL in Atlanta, as well as of Jacob’s Pillow (a major dance festival in Becket, Massachusetts) and NCCAkron (a choreographic center in Akron, Ohio). This is clearly not a list of all the major dance organizations; it’s just a sampling of who I managed to get in touch with as 2020 draws to a close.

Their responses, as you’ll see in the coming weeks as I publish their interviews, underlie just how cataclysmic 2020 has been to the dance field. From the lockdowns and social distancing measures meant to stymie viral spread, to the protests and heightened awareness of racial injustice following the murder of George Floyd, to the daily task of adapting to video technology in the quest to continue making classes and performances available, it quickly becomes apparent there is no going back to the way things were in 2019.

Some of the changes wrought make me excited. The most obvious and long overdue is addressing racism and white supremacy embedded within our institutions. I took heart that none of the leaders I spoke with had only started addressing marginalization within their respective institutions this year; most had begun the process years prior of taking a deep look at how their organizations were serving and representing people of color. The events of this year have sped up that effort. This is not to say there aren’t dance organizations in desperate need of introspection, but the ones I spoke with have been actively moving toward thorough reevaluation of their institutions.

Another change I’m looking forward to is the awareness that the health of dance artists, both mental and physical, is not disposable. As more of the public has dealt with anxiety and depression, there’s been a call within our field to assess what has long been giving dance artists anxiety and depression: feeling overworked and undervalued. More than one dance organization I spoke with described regular affinity group meetings to provide support, and many had substantially lowered their membership dues. Others had raised and distributed COVID relief grants for artists. I hope such support measures become more common.

Finally, online access to classes and performances has been a way to engage students and audiences beyond studios and theaters. While we can agree it’s no permanent substitute to being in-person, all the dance organizations I spoke with described reaching new folks interested in their programming, often geographically far from where their dance organization is located. While consistent internet access is unfortunately not a privilege all have, and Zoom has become odious for many, it is a boon for people with disabilities, people living outside major metropolitan areas, or people just unable to get across town through traffic. All the leaders I spoke with describe a hybrid model going forward of online and in-person content.

I hope you enjoy reading my interviews with these dance leaders over the coming weeks and take heart that while this year has caused massive devastation, the vibrancy of the dance field is not diminished in any way, and has even started to rectify some glaring inadequacies. When 2020 came and our sense of normal was thrown out the window, perhaps we got some much needed fresh air.

~~

The post Wrapping Up 2020 with A Look at The Field appeared first on Stance on Dance.

BY SANDI VETTER; ILLUSTRATION BY CAMILLE TAFT

This poem was inspired by a memory of watching my parents square dancing when I was growing up, as well as my own folk dancing with the Seattle Latvian folkdance ensemble ‘Trejdeksnitis’ (tray-dex-neet-iss). The group is named after a Latvian percussion instrument, sometimes used in dances.

A man calls out and dancers weave a square,

Not blind, but well aware of patterns made,

By simple movements-measured rhythmic steps.

Enlacing throngs of glowing, whirling forms,

A dusty curtain crowns the festive tribe.

(Like rivers flowing, dancing through the maze

Of twisting streets enhanced with passion lights.)

They cleave around, around, come home and leave,

And catch the eyes of those they meet and stop.

With hand on hand, the dancers circle round,

(A top so balanced, spinning soundly by)

Inciting madness into those who watch.

Convulsing lights between the darting crowd,

Reflect the youthful gleam in merry eyes.

Recalling later when the music taunts,

Again to dance the endless, rhythmic squares,

Still hearing after years of joyous tunes,

That single fiddle floating on the air.

~~

Based in the Pacific Northwest, Sandi Vetter makes her living in healthcare, and leads an artful life filled with creativity, curiosity, and soul-filling experiences. She plays with plants (Mandalas, flatlays, animal spirits and faces made of foliage and flowers), paper (handmade cards, boxes and books), and dance as much as she can (Jazz, Nia, Latvian Folk Dance). You can see her foliage art on Instagram (@saulessister). Saulessister is a play on ‘Soul Sister,’ but she uses the Latvian word for The Sun, ‘Saule’ (sow-leh), to hint at her Latvian heritage.

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BY PETRA ANDERS; IMAGE BY CAMILLE TAFT

You can be a high wire dancer in many ways, not just on a high wire.

~~

I need to balance

like a wire dancer

knowing

that every single step is

hard to take

I must balance myself

say what I want

as this is no guessing game

leave if that’s what you want

or I will lose you

I need to keep my distance

stand still and freeze

to keep an eye on the events

even if the best place to be

is close to you

I must learn to bide my time

keep waiting

on the high wire

but not too long

or you’ll be gone

without a smile

without me being able

to ask you to keep my feet on solid ground

because every dancer needs a break

no dancer is perfect right away

so please

tell me

if this is going too fast

tell me

if I’m getting too close

and don’t forget

to look after me

every once in a while

~~

Dr. Petra Anders loves to write poems. As an academic with disabilities, her research includes different aspects of the representation of disability in film as well as disability studies and gender. Petra’s research draws on her belief that differences between people should not only be recognized but accepted. For more information, please check out her website: http://petraanders.de/barrierearm-accessible/.

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BY ALICE BLUMENFELD; IMAGE BY CAMILLE TAFT

I wrote the first draft of this poem in the dance studio after rehearsing some solo material for a show titled Beyond Nostalgia, which was supposed to premiere in April 2020 (postponed) at Cleveland Public Theater–it just came out after I stopped moving and sat down to take off my flamenco shoes. The show’s concept came from the following: stopped at a red-light, a few blocks from my “permanent address,” and shortly after accepting a job in a rural Ohio town, I had an intense pang of nostalgia. Although I had yet to begin packing my life into cardboard boxes, I stared at the sun striking the nearly empty intersection and I yearned not for things that used to be or things I would be leaving behind, but for versions of myself I was severing any possibility of becoming. Was there a word for this nostalgia, a nostalgia for a self or selves that never existed and never could exist? I haven’t yet found a word…but my body, music, sounds, literature, and imagery seem to explain the feeling…

Residue of past

possibilities

hangs in the air,

Like haze

on a Midwest winter day;

Grey on grey on grey on grey.

Grey.

Steel. Sleet. Grit.

Paved.

Nothing black or white.

Fuzzy layers of susurrant woods

awaiting warmer undercurrents.

Midnight on misty backroads

Headlights crest gradually

over hills,

eerie ellipses of light.

Distances distorted.

Time          slows.

Cruising ahead.

Fleeting desire—

can these crisscrossing

routes overlay?

Early morning fog of remembering

Lavender skies awaken

dry, frost-bitten cornfields.

Here, now. There. Further yet.

Embedded within.

Memory.

Imprints,

twisted

tied together

cut short

extending,

fraying

threads,

turning

perspective lines

off-kilter

Parallel lines, over extended,

shift and slant,

momentary intersections—

a recollection—

only to continue on…

Onward

Toward distant, dense red light

slipping below

an infinite skyline,

Ceaselessly chasing

the horizon beyond

nostalgia.

~~

Alice Blumenfeld is the founder and artistic director of ABREPASO Flamenco and a visiting assistant professor of dance at Oberlin College. She holds an MFA in dance from Hollins University and a BA in comparative literature from New York University. In 2012, Alice received a Fulbright Grant for flamenco choreographic studies in Spain. As a freelance dancer, she has worked with many of the major flamenco companies in the US, and her choreography has been commissioned by many institutions, including the Kennedy Center for Performing Arts, the National Hispanic Cultural Center, YoungArts and several universities. 

To learn more about Alice and her work, visit aliceblumenfeld.com.

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BY DELPHINE HSINI MEI; ILLUSTRATION BY CAMILLE TAFT

One was first written during an artist residency in Singapore in the midst of creating a performance piece. One day when I was walking around the city, I saw this old house with a beautiful mosaic, and wooden windows opening to the top, while a beam of light shining down. I took a photo, then wrote a short poem. It was reworked and became longer in 2020. I think home is our body. And ultimately, we are all connected and one. Dance is a gateway for us to connect closely to this home where our hearts stay truly alive.

~~

open the door and it’s light

open the light and it’s right

never am i searching wondering wandering

endless nights on the streets

foreigner amongst people

making home in the body

wandering

carelessly aimlessly

like a bird without a tree to grow her nest

like his mother

blind

still struggles to find home

HOME

to bend the body

in pieces

peace of the body

owns nothing but the body

this body

your body

my body

our bodies

bodies trying to find home in the dance

DANCE

waltz cha cha salsa and chive

ballet modern break and tap

bollywood kabuki belly and tango

disco yeah disco

saturday night fever

and more

can it be more?

MORE

i want more

steps slow and festive

sometimes swift and sassy

sometimes sweet and airy

like summer’s fairies

hummingbirds and butterflies

those dancing ladies

who are queens princesses and more

dancing their own tunes on the way home

her body her home

kind of sexy

her home

H.O.M.E.

dancing their own tunes on the way home

making the one her one

making the one his one

making the ones their ones

dancing their way home

~~

Born in Taiwan, Delphine Hsini Mei has practiced dance in the US, Europe and Asia. She’s been a resident artist at Cite American-Foundation (Paris, France) and Dance Short (Amsterdam, NL). Picking up lost shoes and conversations in the world and making them into various art forms have been her interest, as well as writing poetry. Her poetic works can also be found in the poetry book, Names in A Jar: A Collection of Poetry, and Raintiger Berlin, an online poetry forum. Delphine is also a holistic teacher-counselor at ShivaniSpiritDance in Taiwan, working with body and energy exploration, balance and healing.

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COLLECTED BY RACHEL I. BERMAN; ILLUSTRATION BY CAMILLE TAFT

such a beautiful sunset tonight.

oh yea, it was. i caught a glimpse of it as i agonized over brown rice.

-walking | him

what is your relationship with celery?

i like it. i didn’t before.

i am learning to like it. i was told it is good for bones and that it looks like bones. i find i don’t like it in soups. i feel like it takes over and it’s all i can taste. how do you like to use celery?

in soups.

-standing | her

there was a dance performance there.

oh yea? who was it?

hm. i’ll have to find out.

well, what did you see?

what did i see?

yea, what did you see?

um…it was very modern. there were four performers, three men and one woman. two were on the floor. one man, shirtless, well he had tattoos, he walked in circles around the two on the floor. all i could think was what was he going to have to do to get that repetitive movement out of his body.

how large were the circles?

maybe twelve feet in diameter.

-driving | mom

•••other bits

she seems to have grown in form

her flesh has more

once she was

and then

there was an old tree she used to visit. its shape has vanished some. really gnarly bark and the smells

smell

did you write to her?

no

did you call that other one?

no

did

they couldn’t be far

not after the last time when i tied up the curtains to see the bottle brush with all the butterflies

there used to be a tangerine tree there

and there where we had a rainstorm adventure

what happened?

we stood behind the night blooming jasmine and it was raining

~~

Rachel ‘Ihilani Berman dances and writes and is learning with plants and farmers. She lived in New York City from 2011-2019 where she had the privilege to work in and between the worlds of immersive theater company Third Rail Projects and choreographer Sarah Michelson. Rachel was grown on Maui and is immensely grateful to have returned.

The post Some Bits from Two Fridays appeared first on Stance on Dance.

BY RICHARD VARGAS; ILLUSTRATION BY CAMILLE TAFT

The poem was inspired by the video of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez dancing and the uproar it generated back in early January 2019. I feel we dance every day, unaware that we are using signature moves and rhythms embedded in our DNA. To dance is to be human.

~~

when we fold

warm sheets from the dryer

fabric stretched and pulled

between our moving figures

together stepping back

raising our arms and then

moving towards each other

slow and in synch

as the imperfect triangle

forms in our hands until

we are face to face

once again

when we drive

on the interstate

at night and the red lights

of the cars ahead begin

to float from one lane

to another then slow down

then speed up steady

and predictable

our instinct takes over

the trance of mind and body

reach out to the heavens

and joins the universe

expanding

when we walk

the crowded city streets

legs hips arms shoulders head

all move in rhythms embedded

long ago in our DNA

timid or bold

indifferent or cool

we saunter we stroll

individuals in a hive

of mass movement

the energy and heat

we create together

propelling us all

to the same

destination

~~

Richard Vargas received his MFA in Creative Writing from the University of New Mexico in 2010. He was the recipient of the 2011 Taos Summer Writers’ Conference’s Hispanic Writer Award, was on the faculty of the 2012 10th National Latino Writers Conference, and facilitated a workshop at the 2015 Taos Summer Writers’ Conference. His three books of poetry are McLife, American Jesus, and Guernica, revisited. He edited/published The Más Tequila Review from 2009-2015. Currently, he resides in Madison, WI.

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