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RFCL Art Exhibit at MAPP
Brava Studios
Saturday, February 2, 2008 |
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A small glass room is filled
bodies of every human color touch,
their mass continues to form a vibrating sea,
of continuous movement
pulsing heat
patterned throbbing
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Harmonic notes are rhythmic and soft
On waves of exuding smiles
they navigate from air to organs
A meandering river of sacred expression
The brain is useless in this tonal chamber,
And in its absence,
another shape emerges
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Quiet gestures dance
like a floating whisper
from the stage
to the unlit territory
of ears and expectant hips.
the crusty gates of oxidized salt
swing open,
and out gushes the unnamable.
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Forgetting its usual obedience
to acquired customs,
It comes unarmed
Without clothes
Escaping wet and soft
pushed by the insistent accordion,
the wind escapes.
Laughing on the form of a flute
Interpolating the octaves.
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She feels the energy of eyes
A circle of machines have ringed her
With a buffer of air, they salivate.
His hand, firm on her waist,
leaves her no exit,
His eyes hold her close.
There can be no escape.
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Piled on her hip are soft mounds of flesh
waiting to be tasted.
His insistent fingers clutch her tender skin,
holding all that is immediate.
His hand on her ass pulls her forward,
a full grip steadies her movements
a forceful push launches her back.
Within an endless communication
of harmony and rhythm,
two bodies are close to naked
Porous cotton exchanges their heat
Like a symphonic lecture, their energy speaks.
Elemental in desire
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She hears congas,
an accordion comes in smoothly,
tiptoeing with care around
the dedicated plucks of bass
She feels the trumpet,
from the base of her spine,
the long vibrant tone of red and black races
like singing fire trucks on a circular path.
Her eyes widen,
the green tinged irises undulate
with a quickening light.
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Ringlets of curls fall around her flushed face,
Her hips begin to move freely,
Like prisoners let out of a cold cave,
their blood begins to circulate
Realizing their freedom,
they swing more wildly
with each tap of the drums
Higher, higher they reach.
He holds her tighter,
the grip entering the realm of pain.
His hand, an anchor to the earth.
He holds her like a kite string
Floating and tethered.
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