TO DANCE WITH BONES...

Broken bones are jagged, they strip the moments from life and the living, strip the flesh and personal details, the flicker of the eye, the movement of the lips, the stagger of the hand, the tremble of the foot. It's all a dance, all a pretence. The rattle of the skull, the excessive grin of the picked clean jaw. Don't expect pause, don't expect finesse, bones are never subtle, never a dream, they are fragmentary and acute, they are staggered and jagged. It is the process of inevitability, the journey of decay. It is the moments that help to break open the sky, to stagger the ocean, to uplift the earth. To dance with bones, to stumble through ashes, to move a life that is lived through the motions of dreaming, to touch the hand of the creature, smooth the face of man, enact the bond between clay and starlight. All are elohim in their way, and all crack the bones of life before them.