Abstract: After having ravaged Io fiercely (prestissimo con brio), the musical trio steps back from her unconscious, languid body. Now once again, they only have each other to amuse. They begin to sing again. The song churns along for a while like a flooded river. But Turner, who is still in his semi-solipsistic state, eyes lightly shut in order to deny all other sentience, diverts their song from its course and leads it into a brief cadenza.
I am Tuner
–Half man –half something else.
My mother called me ‘Stranger,’
Which is a strange thing for a mother to say
Considering that I passed through her fickle vagina
-Half hers -half something else
But I suppose there had been many strangers there in that secret place long before I passed through.
There, in those fleshy gratifying corridors is where strangers become familiar.
I know, for I am the progeny of that strange and profane familiarity.
I come from that intimate distance
Those close encounters without a present
Those loves -discursive and fleeting
That passion that lives in a gaze and dies when the stranger’s gaze turns away.