by Beige Brown
In a world that competes to canonise the crotch
Against a backdrop of futile fetishising the 2-D feminine
I am ‘still processing’ the maternal majesty of this serene creature –
The SKYWHALE – poetry in motion
her benevolent beak, bulbous undulating udders
her fervent impermanence & transient corporeality
bob beautifully beyond us like the divine force of the feminine.
Venus of Woden-dorf,
Her nipple-tastic excess, pert provocation, mammalian manifestation
Causing Haptic Hullaballoo in our Nation’s Capital
Capital! (but bell hooks uses none)
the chaotic confusion she engendered (pun very much intended)
persists in ecstatic entanglements,
Her lavish hugeness directly contrapuntal to the hypnotic pulse
of a masculine machine’s manly beat,
inducing meditation on the fierce furore
caused by her soft silent roar.
‘I am multiplicitous woman hear me osmotically in each of your pores.’
Unlike the puerile protagonists,
Tiny homunculi spouting tumescent turd-words
She floats still, letting the silken stuff of her pink bits,
laden with promiscuous promise
all hang out
Her freedom a vast reproach
Yet Zoo Gazelles Canter Too.
That festooned floating fecundity –
reinstates, reiterates, obfuscates
The hidden valve of the vulva; her primal curves
Disrupt the prophylactic whiteness of
Canberra’s flattened sky scrotum –
Deliberately interrupt the unnecessary unison
of the monolithic horizon
Where her potent absence stands in
for Lilith’s embodied utterance.
Domesticate this bounteous beast at your peril
Try putting that prolix différance into the shrunken aperture
of your Knitting Nancy!
Say SEW! What?
Eight billowing breasts threaded
with dripping possibility;
Enacting social acupuncture,
a sexual Shiatsu -
Break down, with uterine knowingness
the banal blooming of that
out-of-place banana, the phallus
whilst the creature’s cathartic
contours luminously balloon
with monstrous sensuality.
Countering the fretful foreclosing binary –
Men encased in suits
emerging from Infrastructure House
rural beauts in relentless utes
the Skywhale’s profane uncontainable
mutated glory ripples ceaselessly
agitating against the closed
circuits of the regimented Cyborg body
‘Oh sister suffragette you float for us’ we sing in grateful chorus
Canberrans hence will all adore us – your
Induces an airy unravelling -
with a succession of soft fanny farts
you blur the male gaze
into an orgiastic affective haze
We, your progeny, unfasten
the dicky old clasp of our metaphysical skirts of constraining civility
- embark on a fecund frolic
suckle at the nubs of your long-departed dangling dugs,
never quite quenching our insatiable thirst for
the wantonness of words
like lush leaking milk from mutant mammaries
boundlessly rippling like the shuddering sea
beneath a bland municipal covering.
You are here.
Skywhale was here.
Let these contingent truths be noted.