TE16 Turkish Delight

Erkut Tokman I witnessed the own unaware dance of the public The chaos in the rhythmic disorder of movement, The quiet stirring unlocking the secret language of unison, The desires you hide within, The freedom you share with none, The call of the sun Trapped in your body.


We were human. We were artists. We were dancers. In the dance of ghosts at Sadler’s Wells

As Christopher Bruce gazed at us We depicted a language of life. We were digital birds at Biped In the final call of the genius which created his virtual dance Within the pure reason that fictionalised cybernetics We were Merce Cunningham . We were the revolt of blacks against Spanish colonials The African dance of freedom against Flamenco We were a black ballerina struggling to survive. On the postcard written “the happiest day of my life*” That smiled face as it rose up underwater within hand a pink balloon We were that man, turquoise ocean of happiness.


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