{"id":1185,"date":"2009-10-17T15:19:54","date_gmt":"2009-10-17T22:19:54","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/wp\/2009\/10\/the_dance_for_robert_duncanthe\/"},"modified":"2009-10-17T15:19:54","modified_gmt":"2009-10-17T22:19:54","slug":"the_dance_for_robert_duncanthe","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/2009\/10\/the_dance_for_robert_duncanthe.html","title":{"rendered":"The meat dance, after Amiri Baraka"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><i>The Dance<\/i> (for <a href=\"http:\/\/www.poets.org\/poet.php\/prmPID\/186\">Robert Duncan<\/a>)<br \/> <a href=\"http:\/\/www.amiribaraka.com\/\">Amiri Baraka<\/a>, aka Leroi Jones<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>The dance (held up for me by<br \/>an older man. He told me how. Showed<br \/>me. Not steps, but the fix<br \/>of muscle. A position<br \/>for myself: to move.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/David-Hammons-Rousing-Rubble\/dp\/0262031841\">David Hammons<\/a><\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"davidhammmeat.jpg\" src=\"http:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/davidhammmeat.jpg\" class=\"mt-image-center\" style=\"margin: 0pt auto 20px; text-align: center; display: block;\" height=\"446\" width=\"324\" \/><\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<blockquote><p>Duncan<br \/>told of dance. His poems<br \/>full of what we called<br \/>so long for you to be. A<br \/>dance. And all his words<br \/>ran out of it. That there<br \/>was some bright elegance<br \/>the sad meat of the body<br \/>made. Some gesture, that<br \/>if we became, for one blank moment<br \/>would turn us<br \/>into creatures of rhythm.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.janasterbak.com\/images.html\">Jana Sterbak<\/a>, <em>Vanitas: Flesh Dress for an Albino Anorectic<\/em>, 1987-2006<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"janasterbackmeat.jpg\" src=\"http:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/janasterbackmeat.jpg\" class=\"mt-image-center\" style=\"margin: 0pt auto 20px; text-align: center; display: block;\" height=\"400\" width=\"307\" \/>I want to be sung. I want<br \/>all my bones and meat hummed<br \/>against the thick floating<br \/>winter sky. I want myself<br \/>as dance. As what I am<br \/>given love, or time, or space<br \/>to feel myself.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.markprent.com\/\">Mark Prent<\/a>, <i>Thawing Out<\/i>, 1972<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"markprentmeat.jpg\" src=\"http:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/markprentmeat.jpg\" class=\"mt-image-center\" style=\"margin: 0pt auto 20px; text-align: center; display: block;\" height=\"400\" width=\"268\" \/>The time of thought. The space<br \/>of actual movement. (Where they<br \/>have taken up the sea, and<br \/>keep me against my will.) I said, also,<br \/>love, being older or younger<br \/>than your world. I am given<br \/>to lying, love, call you out<br \/>now, given to feeling things<br \/>I alone create.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Zhang Huan, <i>My New York, <\/i>2002<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"zhanghuanmeat.jpg\" src=\"http:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/zhanghuanmeat.jpg\" class=\"mt-image-center\" style=\"margin: 0pt auto 20px; text-align: center; display: block;\" height=\"582\" width=\"450\" \/>And let me once, create<br \/>myself. And let you, whoever<br \/>sits now breathing on my words<br \/>create a self of your own. One<br \/>that will love me.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.taniabruguera.com\/info_cv.html\">Tania Bruguera&nbsp; <\/a>(<a href=\"http:\/\/dcartnews.blogspot.com\/\">via<\/a>)<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"taniabruguerameat.jpg\" src=\"http:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/taniabruguerameat.jpg\" class=\"mt-image-center\" style=\"margin: 0pt auto 20px; text-align: center; display: block;\" height=\"600\" width=\"400\" \/><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Dance (for Robert Duncan) Amiri Baraka, aka Leroi Jones The dance (held up for me byan older man. He told me how. Showedme. Not steps, but the fixof muscle. A positionfor myself: to move. David Hammons Duncantold of dance. His poemsfull of what we calledso long for you to be. Adance. And all his [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-1185","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-uncategorized","7":"entry"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1185","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1185"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1185\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1185"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1185"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/anotherbb\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1185"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}