(by Sweaty Head Jane)
So hot in here my breath feels cold—
you lithe bastard,
Your yoga has me hooked.
I sweat, well, superlatively—
Yet all I know is this drenched-head glow
Lock that knee? I'M TRYING.
Balance? Not good. Flexible? Yes.
Steamy rooms of students
seeking strength, poise, love? All of the
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Danger: poetry ahead
Back in the summer, during the weekly poetry challenge I do with my housemate (and distinguished children's author), Nikki, she chose the format: a cinq-cinquain. This is a poem of five verses of five lines each, with varying syllables per line, like so: 2 syllables, 4, 6, 8, 2. Everybody clear so far? 2-4-6-8-2. I didn't know what the hell I could write about, so I went to yoga instead. The result is now being made available on the internet for the first time: