I met so many wonderful, kind, patient people at SEAF. I guess they’re used to people like me, those who have no experience, treading the line into their world. Some of my favorite installation pieces were the straight blade used to cut away a man’s pants and then to shave his chest (gonna try this at home, but with a Bic razor instead of a straight edge… or I need help), and the Sensation City – with some of the claws, pinwheels, and electric stuff done on Thursday and Friday night. The first one because it was accessible to me, it fired my imagination. The second because it was a physical experience, so I could relate to it. I went back to Sensation City each night. The guy on Saturday night was too rough and wouldn’t back off. I just got up off the chair for that one. But Thursday night introduced me to electrical and Friday surprised me about impact. Turns out not all impact is alike. I’m gonna have to find a class or something, b/c I wanna get some more of what happened on Thursday & Friday night. It was sensational!
I also met some very sweet, patient people. People who let me touch their latex, or their spandex, their bosom, or their bottom, ask questions, agree or disagree with their sub(?) there with them, admit to being a domme, share with me how one of my pommes struck them, write: “Whore, Whore, Whore are you?” on their bosoms (including exclamation points on their nipples), or just put up with my questions. Their kindness was constant. Thank you.
The Literary Art Director, Briana Jacobs, did so much to encourage me, make me feel comfortable while I read. It was a pleasure working with her. While the conditions were not always ideal, one of my highlights was that an artist whose work I’d written about could actually hear I’d written and enjoyed the piece. It was a striking pleasure to meet with him and talk about how his work inspired mine. I also met David Steinberg, a photographer whose website has inspired multiple poems of mine, actually influenced me in the direction of writing explicit erotic work with “nonstandard” characters. His photographs directly inspired the following poems: “The Garden,” “The Secret,” and “Scars.” His work, and Brooke Magnati’s about sexuality and “disability” inspired the prompt, “Put the Kink Back In Kinky.” (You really need to listen to her Ted Talk on anonymity, “In Defense of Anonymity”. I’d been trying to find her original link about working with people with disabilities, but it no longer exists. Damn. It was a good one. The internet giveth, the internet taketh away.)
Anyways, thanks all for a fabulous experience. Today’s poem is a response to meeting you:
A fantasy always begins with the improbable,
so here she lay on a red topped table, each limb
bound to a corner with black leather cuffs lined
with thick, red satin. She was a cliché for some,
but for herself – she was unexplored territory,
an unmapped world. When she gave herself
permission, she gave herself over to the touch
foreign hands, the stroke of strange fingers.
She might never have another lover again, but
there were other forms of caress, of prick, of bite.
She would take a different kind of kiss. And so,
at sixty-three, she laid herself upon the table – bare,
soft, and let the mapping begin of her territory.