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This room has become my sanctuary. I don't know what to make of this city. Its tongue is fat against my ear, its streets incoherent and unclear.
Will we only ever make love in rooms like this? Designed for refugee lovers and tired tourists. Tugged apart by those waiting at home - or at least waiting for you in your home.
I spend hours gazing at the mountain, trying to take its impression within. I can feel it as he uncurls in sleep. I can feel it easing into me.
In the morning when he leans over me, it is the mountain I feel entering me: osmosis of form, mountain as man, man as mountain, mountain as man, felling me, methodically, systematically, silently.
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2. |
Ride The Bronco!
04:00
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I part my legs. The leather between them is soft and warmed with sunlight.
I watched a film about love across distance on my long return flight. The young lead was a bull rider. The pilot says we're in for a bumpy ride. I hope this bull is a gentle one. I clench the saddle with my thighs.
I grip with my thighs. I feel the softness of the flesh that young girls seek to diminish. I part my legs.
I feel your tremble and your roar and my womb answers "yes". I can weather the storm. I part my legs.
Ride the bronco!
Shake with the mountains!
Meet unknown gods!
Touch the skin!
I tire of the gods I know.
Shake with the mountains!
Ride the bronco!
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3. |
La Casa Amarilla
04:19
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I am here. I have come. So go creep about the roots of pomegranate trees on mountains. Feed me up into their fruits.
You are more beautiful than anything I could have imagined and you are everything I've tried to imagine. Here I stand: you before me as if it were nothing, as if there'd been no need for my suffering.
My heart full with the growing, my arms sore from the rowing, two heads soft with the knowing that we are in love.
And it's as if every pomegranate, walnut, lemon or fresh egg had only ever been a facsimile clue, a series of arrows, pointing away from the world that I lived in mute, tongue-tied and confused. And I can see my house, low and yellow, the garden crackling with life. Here I stand as if it were nothing, as if I'd always been your wife.
My face hot with the glowing, my arms sore from the rowing, my heart full with the knowing that I belong here at the bottom of the well, feeding upwards into the fruit, coursing under the mountain, sinking deep into the roots of the grove.
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4. |
Cock & Hen
04:33
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Daughter, I am your father and I have always been your father. Daughter, child, I am your father, but what am I too? I am your lover.
For I am the cock and you are the hen and we only have these two roles to play and we only have these steps I must teach you. The dance says all we need to say.
And I have provided for you and I shall continue to provide for you long after you become a mother yourself. Choose a mate: in sickness, in health.
He'll be the cock and you'll be the hen and you'll only have these two roles to play. You only have these steps I must teach you. The dance says all you'll need to say.
Show the sun you appreciate his light!
Show the land you appreciate his might!
Let us dance!
Daughter, spin for me!
Show your father you can receive by giving.
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Becky Becky
Literary-inspired electro-synth-pop duo Gemma L Williams & Peter J D Mason.
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