Staceyann Chin

July in Stockholm

it's cold.
but I have been working.
writing up a storm. holed up in my hotel room
with cheese and bread and juice.

I might buy another piece of silk, her in this quaint cobbles
streets of an ancient town

nothing much to say
I am the mad hatter today
pottering away at these poems
and this show that will open days after I arrive in New York

I miss the smell of my lover
that soft warm wiggle of my nose
that wakes me more often than not
at dawn

I miss her in the afternoon
when it is midnight somewhere else

and I am inside of myself
enjoying the yearning

for something beautiful and pungent
and filled with color
and words

love that produces art
is the greatest joining of hearts

some people just say they make art
but they want what they can get
from a pen pulling
blood and bits of bone from the bruises
left

but it is sweetest when you
see
at once that love was not what it looked like
in the eyes of a dragon

fire is not so beautiful whenit is dying
fake flames
filled with the green of envy

the glint might give the impression of truth
but lies eventually spill from such mouths

and soon
it becomes apparent
that teeth are not all you need for biting

lesson learned
lesson earned

don't call a man duppy
till you sure him dead

my granny is one smart old witch
and I am learning gentle hands upon my heart

are easier on my body

easy like my baby sister
giggling when I call our mother crazy

like the chilean teen who brings me chocolates in my hotel room
looks like my sister

she speaks three languages
and listens to Beyonce

I like the bounce and the step
of women who dare to live beyond what people say they need
from the world

the world owes me
nothing
but we owe each other
the world

the little folksinger has always had my heart
when she pulls those guitars strings I feel like somebody honest
is playing something worth listening to

ani difranco will always
rock my boat
keep me afloat
in the blood tides of my dance with suicides

my ressurection will stand as testament

Christ is my main man
when they are not using him to further
some plan

born of lucifer and his hand calling bitter toward
death

some moments
I am pulled to answer

but my woman and my grandmother
and even my mother
reaches for me

my friends will always catch me
Racquel
and Deean

and how I love the hopeful smile of these teens
Tatiana
Larah

two girls from different sides of the globe
same lives

same dark hair
same beautiful face

hopeful
making me leap
at the thought of a tomorrow,

giggles and hugs
from room the 3rd floor in Stockholm,

kiss the wind for me in Chile,
Staceyann

Posted by staceyann at July 26, 2004 05:02 PM