xx / xy (a response to the 2004 artes mundi exhibition)
swelling the edge between water & flesh
lips red & ready, foamystroke steady
open orifice, cream crevice
where’s the soap?
yes. doesn’t it.
under her fur cossack hood she observes, excited, muscular pulsing
the one-legged armour-plated water-proof & pleat-skirted mutant beauty
conjugation is just beginning &
art tickles the clitoris of vision
the rich soil down there
sandinista tequila tabasco
the mayor go 3-course with aristo & amigo from el real
chillipep ah! hot defrost ah! yellowbox meals
cashcrop equat ah! sowta merik tequile
salt & citric gunship
back throat gone to overthrow
nost- guer- ril
coup d’état red as the clash go sandinist
blue as the argen
the voice of revolt
all our mothers’ tears
aztec volcay no! erupto toot sweet
aristo! my arse bleeds!
aristo one unfunny gringo
(we owes you compadre)
black shades – green beret – defoliate fields
he wants heat i’ll give him heeaa-sheeit!
get the vatican mucho quick!
(saints bless this
aristo & amigo turn the flame on el fugitive;
the mayor outside in...
this sticky heat
cornhead primed, the wheatsheaf tide laps cliffhigh
in milky wet sunshine at the edge of field.
laid under bramble hedge, i roll pert blackberries between my teeth
project with my tongue & pop between your waiting lips.
over walnutwood eyes you drop your lids
loll fruit flesh & squeeze for release, suck juice, swallow pips.
we kiss, join & rejoice in the field off the gulling sea, reverberate the low breeze
the pumping thud of human blood, quiverheavy with salt & seed.
our sweated sighs entwine with the bush branch & leaf, the final flicked wingbeats
of blacksaffron bees prone on the sandy mud, each bleached with this sticky heat.