By: Jonno Revanche
The wiry linen blouse doesn’t unbutton all the way / refusing its
silhouette / Rejecting old ideal by
way of design...
Rebelling against form, ritual, body / takes not to skin, catching
wind / mirroring a character in full
theatre mode, a chance at interiority
into a dream-like non space -
Culture killed all opportunities to become who / you
really want, did it not? - ripening toward sickness, impossible
promises made mostly paranoia,
light intercourse, fit only to the wardrobes we could buy / wrapped up into farcical nom de
plumes, as is convenient
And then a billowing freeze-frame of a face
that fell / at the end of the day you don’t know whether the boy you imagine is truly inimitable
who is fuckable.
Let’s not get too Freudian! - lets spur on new imaginations, beyond beautiful strangers on an old
where gender is not just a query nor assumption, where divinity is not in body but rather in collectivity, can be a place you turn away from at the right time / There saffron is the colour of freedom, hair can be brushed delicately, sideways / where toxicity leaves town and never returns again. We all want to embody someone more practiced than ourselves ...... To find ourselves linking arms with free-form characters and to feel eyes upon us....! Then to revisit the body - the gut and the slip of the cheekbones, and the gauze over eyes, and the ability to say yes or no with full agency, to be complete sentence or moodboard of previously performed characters, to construct what is necessary when freedom is on offer, To make love with full presence and to be drawn into your opposites universe, Bottoms are the pillar of our community and short kings deserve a star on the Hollywood walk of fame, In the future the clothes we wear will spell out romance beyond the iron maidens - But in your bedroom he looks like a particularly new concept you’re ready to indulge at last / so strangeways, here we come
Jonno Revanche is a poet/essayist currently based between Adelaide and Sydney.