when it ends: a stream-of-consciousness poem by Lauren Tavares

floating. falling. flying. soar high, wait for the drop. a fear you can’t shake. trembles. internal. feeling it all with no end to this madness in sight. there’s a pit in your stomach. it hurts, and not in the good way. aching and longing and wanting. needing. necessary. a shake of the head. dismissal, and … More when it ends: a stream-of-consciousness poem by Lauren Tavares

movement by Lauren Tavares

We’re all a little lost. We’re neither here nor there, darting from place to place, life to life. It’s a crossroads. It’s a place to hide out. A pit stop of sorts. Everyone has somewhere they should be and it’s not in this room. We come here with the intention to leave as soon as we can.

I can’t figure out this feeling but I know that I’m out of place. The people rush about, bumping into my shoulders in their hurry and sending me stumbling forward into the person in front of me. Standing here, in the middle of the terminal, I’m simply an object, an obstacle put in people’s way to prevent them from being where they need to be when they need to be there and that time is now.

It’s always now. … More movement by Lauren Tavares

critique by Lauren Tavares

I stop. I stare. This is not what we do. This is not how we dance. Her arms shouldn’t be held like that. Straight out, then soften the elbows a bit, round your palms and turn them in. Your arms should not be bent downwards. Elbows to the sky, ladies, elbows to the sky. Turn your arms into bird’s wings and fly. Why are you smiling? No smiling in ballet. We are pleasant, we are neutral, we are here to be seen and admired but not noticed. … More critique by Lauren Tavares

the lab by Lauren Tavares

The lights shine down on us all, illuminating our lines and creating shadows that define us. We stare into our own souls and reflect on our reflections. Then, we move.

We inhabit our music. It becomes a playground, a mad scientist’s lab, a space in the void where we can be everything and nothing all at once. Piano notes flow down my spine and bend my back into positions not thought possible. With each strum of the guitar, my heart leaps and I fly through the air with its power. Bass sharpens my movements, quick fingers and toes and snaps of the wrists. … More the lab by Lauren Tavares