Xconnect




The Sylf

(the genii-ology of the heart/mind)

The voice on the left is a woman artist doing her laundry with her lover's; meanwhile on the right, the man -- a dancer -- addresses her. Sounding together these voices make an erotic love poem.

Jeffrey Loo


I fill this

now dark

opening

with blue

earthen umber

and red

of a downward sun

and put change

in and

on it goes

and your

shirts trail,

tights flail,

towels tumble

like waving

flags and

through my

dress in the

dryer glass

everything

pours, falls,

rises open as

the clothes cages

that will

be filled

and my body

is open, just

so, in the waves

the wave

of my dress

that moves

are perfect

breathless

stases

when on it goes

round and

round in life's

laundry-go-

round (for

ever!) on it

goes inside and

outside of

the inside-out

colors and

my outside

in the glass

and on it goes

off again

so I put

change in

and change

your stuff with

mine the

slips and

bras and

sopping

hankies and

panties and

on it goes off

again (its

nerve-on-a

downswing) on

it goes off

again the I

I am again

this body in

my dress as

opening scarves

are rivering

deep in the

dark through

my solely

lit thighs

In the scent

of eucalyptus

leaves, you

suspire for the

shivering glass

of my lips,

I gave it up--

threw

ballet shoes

in the fire

and watched

the flame flicker,

kick and

whirl a smoke

body rising

in airless

black

and my whole

torso screamed

for you,

and who is

drawing me

breathes close

seeing me grab

the ground again

that pulses as

I push in-

to arc, in-

to sky

harder than

trees flinching

in winds,

unrelenting

breath is

my spillway

of words,

song from

flecks of

toenails or moon

pumice (half-

minding, half,

hearty) that is

light and its

dark never dies,

steadier than

my eyes,

who is drawing

me always

drinks her-

self always

and outpours

mine, she's

not art but

artist drawing me

and threadings

of me through

the leap--

closest to

your gut-levels

bye and bye

I say sleep

sound whether

or nether

worlds sleep

and by your

belly you

hear me the

first time,

--full space

of my blood

blown through

my own

passage



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