I plan to sleep and dance alone, when constructing an evening
I can envision the floor, the sweat, and ringing in my ears
I see myself, man on fire, dancing for not knowing better
My signals are grounded in a language I don't understand
each word a root that fans downwards and out
tunneling, blind as lizards, fixing my limbs to a place
where they swing cluttered and remote
dumb in spite of shouting
anchored in spite of constant motion.
It doesn't matter how articulate the roots
the endless jerking protrusions spreading nothing but rumor
unhollow fingers smearing through the soil
ugly as painting, ugly as songbirds.
I see myself there, man of earth on fire
knowing better than to dance
knowing better than to sweat.