Twentysix by Jonathan Kemp

Author:Jonathan Kemp [Jonathan Kemp]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781908434043
Publisher: Myriad Editions
Published: 2011-05-26T16:00:00+00:00

The bed is covered in naked men, an eiderdown of flesh. Two Italians (one from the north, one from the south), a Brazilian, and two Brits (one from the north, one from the south).

Commenting on the action later to a friend, one of them will say, ‘I took two cocks up my arse at once; it felt fucking great,’ thereby proving the inadequacy of words, demonstrating how they wring dry the intensity of every moment and hang it up for inspection, hang it out to dry, colourless and mistaken. Wrap me in colours that cannot be described, patterns that change with each movement like a kaleidoscope. Give me a world beyond what is here. Give me a body in flames dancing in a place where there is no shame. Give me lies, if you like, but take me there, to that other world where language can only play games of hide and seek with what is really going on.

Either that or give me the words with which I can speak, teach me a new tongue that licks itself closer to the contours of bodies. Make my voice form shapes and sounds approximating more perfectly the perfect anguish of my joy. How does anybody learn? How can language say that? It trips and flies like an angel avoiding the bullets being shot at its feet. A dance of desperation and avoidance. Give me words with substance, words that taste of skin and smell like a well-fucked man. Give me a new alphabet, a new vocabulary of sliding verbs and solid nouns. A is for all of it, B is for bareback, C is for craving. Twenty-six letters burning in the flames like a taste upon the tongue. D is for deeper, E is for everything, F is for fear. And fear is for those who cannot speak this way, but stutter none the less, tripping over tongues that hold a key, a key to another world, a key that is swallowed before it can be snatched and used to unlock the cage door, before it can let loose this new alphabet that would flit around your head like so many birds, embroidering a song with no meaning, a song that exists for its own sake, for its own beauty, a song that tells of nothing but the joy it manifests.

Give me this language, if you can.

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