a world created by the dance of my hands.  With grace and humility, I'll perform my dance for thee.  For best results, please set your view text size to "smaller."
				WITH THIS SITE I INTEND TO STATE MY WORK’S PURPOSE; however, at the moment my mind wanders and flowers and twists and turns, and I am unable to pin a poetic thought of it down. I do not know if I will be able to take lingual control enough of my purpose to wrap it up and send it to you, kind reader and patron. Indeed, I wish to impress upon you who I am. For as long as I may, I will struggle to offer gentle words, vivid photographs, and graceful phrasing. See, here: it all started when the world flipped over and the contents of my life spilt to the floor piece by piece. What was light became dark, what was sweet became sour, and all that was good rotted. What I cared about suddenly disappeared, and the small existential things I hadn’t before noticed were big, powerfully present, and very much needing to be known and understood. The people I loved changed face; the stars changed; the moon changed. I watched these events happening, and I felt a raw, hot terror. My mind burst as into flames and the body followed. I didn’t know how to deal with these things, this strangeness, this unmerciful journey called Change, or Life. I stopped enjoying time. I stopped laughing, singing, and almost speaking. I ate little food and got very thin. I became a human doll void of breath and of artistic inspiration, or the dance. Then, I was suddenly very hungry. I wanted everything: beauty, appreciation, money, fame. I moved to California to be a movie star, but had no ability to shine. I worked menial jobs. I started eating again. I ate everything in sight. Bulimia. I got fat and pretty. The men watched the curves of my body grow with dark, sex-mad eyes. I contemplated those eyes. I considered being a stripper. I smoked cigarettes. I obsessed about the possibility of death and dying. Blackness. Loneliness. I came home to Pennsylvania. I got a job at a bank, and hated it. I moved to New York City to be an artist, a dancer and poet: a woman free and spirited and independent and alive. There, in the city, I almost felt settled. I was becoming myself again. Then I started to ache for literature, for words, and for lingual expression. I ran home to my mother. On this website, I give myself to you. You are my purpose. I have little money. I have few resources. I have my past actions, my hope for the future, and my eager mind of today. I would like to earn a Master’s Degree in English and Comparative Literature. I want to learn the beauty that is language. Language, the thing that separates us from the animals. Language, the thing that manifests our humanity, compassion, and mental sophistication. As a woman of this world, I need to be recognized as a living being, a female, an artist. I’ll require the intelligence and validation that further education can supply. I’ll also require your attention and support. Somehow, I’ll gather together all the credentials needed to be whom I dream to be: she, the woman in white standing proudly at my bedroom window; she, the pure woman of my youth who has been looking back at me with dignity and grace all the years. At this moment, my writing hand holds a blue plastic pen. The pen scratches along the page leaving dainty little squiggles which form words. I have become fanatical about the shapes of those squiggles, and also about the whiteness of each new page. At 27, I have young eyes, awesome dreams, and a humbled and aged body. I have shortcomings, faults and stupidities. I have questions and mysteries. I have everything, and nothing, all at once. Yet, it is language which is the thing that so inspires and ignites that I’ll say goodbye to all other vices should I be blessed with the opportunity to conquer the ways of its great winged way. I’ll make this human world proud. Let me soar. I’ll give my writing, my art, my body and soul. I’ll give and give and give~ to you, to you, to you. CONTENTS about  poems by melanie m. eyth contact  permanent address, email; writer's resume; ceremony issue #5 guest book  please sign our book, and tell us about yourself links  explore and enjoy other websites; the unknown poets corner dance  dancer's resume; actor's resume; quotes by famous writers and artists my hands cards  catalog of handmade greeting and note cards; thoughts on being a woman publishing  eleven books of poetry; poetic piece My Life photography  portraits of people: the self, my friends, man and woman I would like to extend a special thank you to my brother and financial advisor, Adam Eyth, for purchasing this website for me, and to my editor, Julie Pincus, for her gifts of patience and guidance. VISITOR