my dance needs no further salt nor pepper
my dance looks good even on paper
but my writing would not move the piper
then i developed the habit of
putting my thoughts and emotion into movements
putting my movements into words
my words into writing.
and storing them privately
Even dancers can write!
the most times I go to see the poets
I wonder why they don't write like me
and why I don't write like them
I began to hide my private part
and continue to steal floor,
for that was all I knew how to do
and they continue to see me
during my insanity
but I continue to hide-write.
finally the smoke of my hidden fire surfaced
the smell of my insanity followed me to the floor
they mocked "even dancers write?"
Ha ha ha...
and I continue to hide my private part
but continue to steal the floor.
when my poem suddenly became movement
when my emotion has got no boundary
when my words became adult
and my dance became even,
when I was least expected
I dance in the gathering of poets
and I stole the floor
even dancers can write
this time no "ha ha ha..."
and they began to write dancers evenly.