Hauāuru.
West wind
Hā — Breath, metal, structure, boundaries, lungs.
You are the sky’s migraine
The lone lamp is a piss coloured sun
Light rains on your jerking form; on your splayed and tensing fingers (Imagine ten pillars of salt, shuddering like mistakes)
It is hot under the piss sun
The stone sweats and your bodies crackle
Run backwards, wildly, to catch the gone moment
In the end, you are left in the tunnel’s sacrum
arms raised/wrists twirling/torso jerking in the half-light
By Collaborator Amit Noy
Best first time director — Munich New wave
Official Selection — Experimental Dance LA
