Larry Levan (snake)

Larry Levan (snake), 2006, by Elia Alba Hip hip hip hip hip makes the man as the conga, serpentine, slides across the frame and the disco dub — tilt and sway — sewing pelves in the room, as if  Larry, still, were levitating streetwise Blacks, Drags, Latinos, Punks: Saturday Mass, 1985, in the Paradise Garage — Evelyn “Champagne” King, Kraftwerk, Ashra. No. He’s black-and-white, a head shot, one two three four five, on this S curve of 21st-century revelers, mask on the one body down, shimmer slant of a hoop earring under the ten-leg- hop-and-pulsate — glide on through. And Larry, Dour Father, bubble pop-popped, afloat, asking repeatedly:Who, My Friends,is fronting? Who is not? You, Velvet Valance, over the sequineddrag of curtain. Black is Black, Brown is Brown, Gay is Gay discopulsing up and through seventeen years of not-forbidding bodies. Introibo ad altare Dei. Ad Deum qui lætificat juventutem meam.Gather youto me and to one another. Grind.