Crazy couple of days
dragging themselves by
thank you Melbourne for turning out in such large numbers. For letting me dance
and sway
and rage at the Athenaeum
thanks for the emails and the calls and the drinks and the food
thanks for the wide open sky
for the spirits that hold this place
survivor
after the rains
and the English
and the weather that does what it does
when it wants to
the streets here remind me of London in some places
Flinders
Elizabeth street
Collins
Queens
I am grateful for the travel
for the spell that rests itself
in the hands of art
Thank you Sasha
and Xan
and Chris
and Lee
and Ros
and Jon Fain for having me in his studio
and Gavin for his paintings
and Jeanti for showing up
and the contingent of blue-hair lesbians I met on the fly
in Sydney
The next two days are sights
to be ingested
and wines to be bought
and chocolates for a woman
who eats it like a meal
I have yet to buy anything
but shoes
Australia
I will be back
Heading out to Sydney and doing the do there
peace and poetry
will let you know how the walls shake themselves in to falling,
Staceyann
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