some legs (reworked 3d modeling image)

so that they're raw tissue or blood or leaking
so that their joints are troubling so that they're hanging
so that they're flags or fish or holiday
or carved from or stripped from meat so that they're raw pain
or so that they're dancing and ecstatic or something or someone
or other so that i knew who they were and know who they are
and know who they will be

People: Alan Sondheim
Tags: sex, dance, pain


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is this it

where the sexual maps and taps saps and everything revolves
as if merrily, or happy, as if things burrowed in their own

as if they were buried, coming and singing and longing, then
leaving, leaving behind their own revolutions

certainly these aren't arousing so they're not it, or are
they arousing and is this it

is there a shattering of the woundatar

o forgotten deadatar, are you returning anytime soon?

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last night at Eyebeam... a revelation...

sex, yes... and death, yes... are inextricably entangled...
am i the first to notice this, Agave? they're both
hard to swallow, and yes, surely i'm the first to call
orgasm the 'little death' which only grows with a thud
into the big One? every point i make is broken with delight
against the corpse of sex, the messy spew of death. wait
a minute, there's more, all sorts of things of bones
growing after the brain stops, what sort of ugly repeating
shatters geometries into the semblance of Becoming?

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