Staceyann Chin

Brooklyn and the Rain

Snow settles cosy in the blocks of my neighborhood. Faces like the wee hours smiling thick

and then the rain comes
rinsing clean
the fuzz of emotion

and monies lost in a hotel
no room for losing things
and cleaning house is a thing of ritual

mothers and daughters ties windows around each other
in the effort to wipe the slate
slip the soil
from the fingers massaging
the new growth into reality

that wrist can paint
and write and care for small pockets with holes in them

old friends pop up
in all kinds of moons

mistaken the full yellow for a Hamburger in Stanford
North Carolina

damned Neon
orbit on a stick

just the right color and you can slide on by
best friends smile
when you perform

and you ask for a kiss on the neck and wait to see
if she'll comply

be careful what you ask for
the universe is the kind of joker who might hand it to you

lips and all
phonecalls from foreign accents
barely fluent
and old friends loving you like no lover
ever did for the wine

and the water
running like I'm crazy

lunatic
and worried about my windows
and these plants going for days without
somebody's warm breath on their leaves

green tongues
lapping at the sweet milk

chin dripping cobalt blue oils
and ochre
and something finally smelling like hope
crinkling
his loud laughter

and his frame fills the chaise lounge
laid back and listening
to the sound of some motherfucker suffering

circulate the air
cactus need love

and repotting takes the most expert hands
spider me a promise
that you will be here when I get back

from finding myself
lucky strings

and talk of UPN
and twenty years later
we still doing it

Australia approaches again
and ache for the beauty
of the dark faces I imagined running sacred over the land

worlds emerging as elbows
and anchors
and wings of women

I want all this
and some more of what have not concieved yet

give me tims
and I will make the room to create it

in poetry,
Staceyann

Posted by staceyann at February 6, 2004 04:27 PM