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

Decadent dervishry

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.