a jete of the mind.

to speak like a dancer is to speak like someone unused to words; the voice forgotten as an instrument of communication because of the exhortations of the body. excited vocal cords oscillate out of tune. jangling sentences unsure of grammar and syntax grate on the ears and stumble unmodulated through the air — poor graceless cousins to silent pirouettes and pas de poisson.

they have traded speech for the eloquence of flesh. straining sinews beg you to listen with your eyes. a cutting gesture, an exclamation point. a sharp intake of breath, a period. a delicate shrug, a question. each nuanced gesture pregnant with meaning. for hours, dancers poeticize without so much as a stutter — their cursive bodies writing their thoughts without benefit of pause.