Selections from Be/spoke

[When the body becomes everything it is given]
After the Alexander McQueen collection Highland Rape autumn/winter 1995 — 96     

When staggering down the runway wearing tartan over torn lace
When thin leather sheaths ripped across the chest
When hooded silk robes fallen open
When inner thighs smudged with red
When only cut grey lace covers the body
When breasts exposed from an unbloused jacket
When stocks edged with a Stuart ruff enclose the neck 
When sleeveless torn satin paired with cutaway shorts 
When cigarette butt appliques & satin ruffle lengthway
When bodies a ravaged country
When a buried history of England & Scotland
When obsolete colors fulwe, maidenhair, sad, vernal, watchet
When a man yelling, Have I offended you then?
When the body becomes everything it is given


*  *  *


Council House, 1972

When did you know you wanted to be in fashion? When I was about 3 years old, I drew a dress on the wall. And what dress was it? Cinderella.

When she turned, I’d never seen anything like it. 
Dress made for charming prince and fairy. 
I could manage the little sleeves, tiny waist rising
out of skirts which laughed as they traveled with her across the ballroom floor. 
And they had stars woven in them. 
I got caught wondering, how to draw that color — sea coast changing to dawn.
There was trouble, but I didn’t care. I knew it was the dress
that saved her. All the rest was just a story.


*  *  *


Whisper the Water
“Oyster Dress”, from the Alexander McQueen collection Irere, spring/summer 2003

White petals set loose and gathered by a single thread
Toss and toss as if it were me that flung them, not the sea
Bed upon bed of oyster shells each turning their pearly tooth 
Judder of small hooves fling and fade
Half moon upon half moon
I whisper the water and you hear this
We are kin we are kin we are wind
Whorl and whelk of gesture upon gesture
With or without that layer of your name
Across the ether we still find ourselves
The airy cage, it cannot quell

The ear of sea stays inside us
Remember how this whelming stirs you
And drunken undulation of brazen yesses
When the artillery of small pauses comes fully in us
With a sum of undertones hemmed, then turned asunder
Like a thousand foundlings, unhinged from a fusillade of swells
If you draw your fingers through 
Of Maiden Hair, silvery Hart’s Tongue bloss-sprung 
From their silurean bed to small wings inside
Untether your atonement, here is hushling. 
Pulse here, here, feel, skirr

Your distance is already in you. 
Brushes your hunger, clean and wild
Wind banks, begins again, here the coppery bite of salt 
Sighs twist and press, each layer a simulacrum of itself
Swells layered and purled, like waves riding through
Always more than the singular soft layers both shale and seam
Vows carried out by the center, now all else
Elements of sage, elements of moss, shorn and washed, thrust among
Wave and runch bestirred from cerulean shell.
The last swerve, the last anodyne,
We wander together in this swale.

Pulse here, here, feel, skirr
Untether your atonement, here is hushling. 
From their silurean bed to small wings inside
Of Maiden Hair, silvery Hart’s Tongue bloss-sprung
If you draw your fingers through 
Like a thousand foundlings, unhinged from a fusillade of swells
With a sum of undertones hemmed, then turned asunder
When the artillery of small pauses comes fully in us
And drunken undulation of brazen yesses
Remember how this whelming stirs you
The ear of sea stays inside us

The airy cage, it cannot quell
Across the ether we still find ourselves
With or without that layer of your name
Whorl and whelk of gesture upon gesture
We are kin we are kin we are wind
I whisper the water and you hear this
Half moon upon half moon
Judder of small hooves fling and fade
Bed upon bed of oyster shells each turning their pearly tooth 
Toss and toss as if it were me that flung them, not the sea
White petals set loose and gathered by a single thread

We wander together in this swale
The last swerve, the last anodyne
Wave and runch bestirred from cerulean shell
Elements of sage, elements of moss, shorn and washed, thrust among
Vows carried out by the center, now all else
Always more than the singular soft layers both shale and seam
Swells layered and purled, like waves riding through
Sighs twist and press, each layer a simulacrum of itself
Wind banks, begins again, here the coppery bite of salt
Brushes your hunger, clean and wild
Your distance is already in you.


*  *  *


Shears

Silk tweed gray felt sable damask flannel
Glory of sharp tool be the lasting part of me

Plip scut slew slew all sounds fall still
Have you seen the fox? Which way did he go, he go?

Hither and thither clean sheets clean sheets
Somersault boundary for a thimble’s jig

Double-tonguing a syncopated flute
Listen sharply: the hues are parting

Sliding up and from the blazing center
No slake for hunger    Of quick, of nimble

Two ships run together like quicksilver
Driven by a storm along the littoral

Pint in the tap. Curved flay of shears.
I’ve cut away the waste. Now bring me a sow’s ear!


                                                                                                                    from Basil Bunting


*  *  *



Cause I’m a Freak Bitch
Dress from the Alexander McQueen collection Plato’s Atlantis spring/summer 2010               
               ] engineered silk [		            ] natural [
               ] reptile, or insect [		               ] bell skirt [
               ] once a girl, fawn [		    ] fish [	
               ] native [			                    ] lightness [

               ] sea rushes quiet[        ] dawn’s fingers [ 
               ] moon in my blood, light changing to water [
               ] no cloak, no drapery to cover my bare legs [
] soon I’ll long for this world and the girl [
] was in it [       

			                             ] now sinuous, now rare [ 

               
               ] and yet alive like leaving [    		               ] not leaving [