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LADY SCUMBAG

LADY SCUMBAG

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erotica

Worm Porn

A love letter and video by Kim Zumpfe that explodes the suppression of pleasure by delving into the deliciously thick soils of earthworm sexuality. The writing is an excerpt from a series that are part of solo project that will exhibit in 2018 at Grand Central Art Center in Santa Ana.

good morning beautiful,

i was thinking of you again last night after i saw you behind the light rays. again that light. rays spread everywhere even in. dark while i sleep you spread. everywhere coherent that specific smell. so fibrous those little things fleshy pieces of you at length. chemical compounds. dendrites. vigorous activity. photons always in a hurry us we can’t. about off everything we. because only scent and me a taught membrane so i leapt off. between thick layers. space has inconsistencies i found, that’s where i see. you tidal between space and other. with an uncertain look to see behind these tense divisions. i look for so many but find mostly empty. or more than. it was only after. me a desolate jumper. okay yes i threw myself really. became velocity between photons before the behind. a delivery in absence. sticky where a look is deceptively similar. and your smell inescapable this still. here in both. stuck just another. maybe there. between one and other. inert sometimes i breathe only in gasps. i’m better with visions. and there peek under cement to see the worms. traveling worms. they travel so far. through viscous inversions

in some countries they kill women in public. even more in private. even here these precious verses. women who love women. men who love men like women. women who are men. men who are women. people who are both or neither. people who love improperly. who break rules. who experience joy. or the ecstatic. here we are so successful at suppressing pleasure that they don’t have to kill us. gravity knows how to avoid the kill. inside a crude precision. lets us be in. be with. in that. with me. on it. indelible. lets feel all this. lets fuck on beds and in cars and on floors and chairs and tables and on the rich dark earth

Earth Worms. Earthworms. earwurms. eeworn. woree. did you know they travel? i don’t know how far. places to be delicious. life they live for so long, 10 years if nothing goes wrong. i looked it up online so i know it must be true. that’s a long time for a worm! they must go so many places during worm time. worming about. with ancestors. ancestors right? uneasy histories. worms out in the open can be eaten and this particular. precarious i’ve captured nightcrawlers fucking in the dark. that long length. embrace right next to. a tight release ready. to retract back into safety of soil. a fail and they are not. i’ve caught some. tore them into diameters and sections delicately wrapped on fishhooks. pieces thrashed about. a brute i ate all those fish caught in that other. knocked them senseless on rocks. rocks don’t feel the same now with. heads cut off. consumed all with bones stuck in my teeth. except the ones stolen by that otter. so sneaky a friend. they eat abundantly too. all of us really, but the worms i mean. i’ve never eaten one but i probably would. they will calmly eat me after i die delicate. press my pieces into dirt. in deep peripheries. worms are never malignant

i mean others eat them and they eat. make soil rich with shit, that excretion. they don’t breath like us and air can kill. water needs, the flow, moisture, oxygen. substances so small. livable burdens on the necessary. on surface a skin. they feel light. light rays on and and and and and nervous vibrations with cells – cells like mine but not. that’s how they find love with all those nervous vibrations. feeling about. feel about. so many feelings. if you touch salt on your skin can dry. out theirs a dangerous touch. through tunnels and across ground. to find, to find what? food and love and oxygen and lust? in dirt. all dirty, i want to love like that. all the pleasures of hermaphroditic fornication. a lusty drive. instincts not undermined by a subconscious. gone wrong. with language and the rest so much. worms don’t worry about things like sexuality or gender or violence. or, do they? spotless restraint. all the pleasures of worm sexuality, i mean, how lucky are they?? pheromones too. ooophhh. so many species specific chemical attractions. its there. copulation, they happen one after the other for those. lucky fuckers have choice. so many love choices. dangerous journeys. fucking along the way. in the rich dark soil. across cement, risking everything the drown and the dry, places to be, get there with bristles and muscles contractions to pull along and through. so many places. so much love to be had. do worms dream? i wonder what they dream about? lots of may-beees and presumptions to generate into opaque suspicions

you have put me in a state of pining over earthworm love. so much love to be had. all over

i hope i see you again soon. the last time was….
or in a vision that too

all my love always
kim

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Kim Zumpfe is an artist, writer, and educator based in Los Angeles. Through individual and collaborative work, she works to expand possibilities in the order of things through working with architectures that engage with space as a psychology and qualities of bent time(s) including the provisional, unstable, and illegible. Sometimes, she is just an interloper. Zumpfe’s work has been exhibited at Los Angeles Contemporary Exhibitions (LACE), Diverseworks Houston, Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego, Hammer Museum, Human Resources Los Angeles, Los Angeles Contemporary Exhibitions (LACA), UCR Culver Center for the Arts Riverside, and several public and online sites.

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