for the Auckland Festival
cold here in my room
21 floors up and the ground looks a little like
New York
is only 18 days away
19 if I am honest
always I say exactly what I feel
minus some of the saltier details
rice cakes are always good on this continent
I opted not to
drink rice wine
yesterday I was in a good mood
because twenty hours of flying
ain't no joke really
and one should reach for the intent
at least
of a good mood
even if access to the net is a mortgage
of sorts
and phonecalls to the places you love
cost more than it makes sense
to pay
but I am not a sensible girl
bits and pieces of me
paid for on time
so they raised the limit
to get me arse in more debt
than the average American dream
I dream infrequent
these days
it is too expensive to conjure images
not touchable
by hand or heart or heads on separate pillows
steady seeing the same thing
continents removed
and these feelings wash tidal over buildings too tall
to feel at home in
Ribena is my favorite drink to have
in this hemisphere
something about it
slides delectable
afternoon like making love at lunchtime
hunger and passion
make good arguments for siestas
Spain is somewhere I have not been yet
Japan
so many cities promised
on a map I traced rabid as a child
my mother was a window I rarely looked through
but I knew
there were worlds beyond the painful
clot of blood not flowing fully
freedom is a flag we too often
take for granted
write me love letters
reading the microscopic hand of a lover
revisited is all I may need
on any given Sunday
in any town taken for rain falling rubies
and rainbows
love is the tightest rope
humanity walks perpetual limbo
balance me
journal entries scribbled hasty over waters
named Pacific
the hours pass
as they are wont to if we wait
new day new skin new/old time story come back
again
I am trapped in a world turning distant from the faces
I would most love to see
today
I am borrowed wind scattering
willows bending purple with the broken lip of a heart
that dared to hope
from Down Under
this is Staceyann Chin reporting for the convoluted
next time
the weather may not be as predicatble
in love
me
Posted by staceyann at March 7, 2005 02:36 PM