in my own bed
my head covered by the familiar
flap of sheet
blanket nestled in the intrusive
banter of vegetative TV
dressing table
closet boring but necessary
silence
and occasions of needing
no words sometimes
words spoken shatter the fragile survival
slow swishing september-like in March
making mention of moons
madness and visions remembered after sleep
dreams really
washed in water
and wet by hope harried and humorless
arrive
ahead of schedule
wish you could be here today
tomorrow
but days have the cruel habit
of passing
whether we will them or not
so hot on the heels of my desire
you will be here
bags deposited on my livingroom floors
scrubbed clean
wooden
not the soft blue shag where we first kissed in America
such a long time ago now
we been lovers for a long time
love
everyday is different
but similar like food not tasted for years
then comes the saliva of curry
stewed
chicken goat bacon
how I ached for bacon
when I was vegetarian
but I am here
buried in my own sheets
bedroom almost clear of papers
reciepts
and such paraphernalia of travel
magnets on refridgerator
normal I feel normal today
same time as the time on my night-table
sleep is sporadic and drugged
long hours or not at all
I wake up
thinking of you
how we have changed
if we will still be gentle
tomorrow
a place that never comes
but loves will come and go
friends have a way
of staying regardless of the nature of time
good cronies
plot the geriatric laughter
make the date
on a porch
or a verandah somewhere
only death keeps them from showing up
I plan to be there
cackling irreverent
about the fickle pleasures of youth
wasted on the young
shakespeare was a motherfucking genius
some girl he was
posing as a boy with a dick as effective as a pen
love in these times
require invention
time
space continue to chart distance
and I am here nestled
loathing the world that knocks necessary
silent from here
and just
outside the lip of my door
Staceyann
...from what matters most
to me
today
the map dwarfs my world
exhausted/pruned/me
shrunken in desire
of you smiling
talks of what we would do
if the sky fell
or held up under such strain
distance
is the path between me
and myself
New York tomorrow
Sweden the next
and only a few more days
to see what will happen
if any of this happens
I will giggle louder
this time I will
stand elastic against the stretch
and it will be better
love
it will be better
I promise
not to make promises I cannot
keep this time
keep me
safe
you secure under the weight of words written
in one draft
no copies
and that is how things are
sometimes
there is only one
print
of a photograph/black and white
a ship shifted since then
I am here
sturdy and missing you purring in my ear
lonely for
you/parts of me miss the laughter I am
when I am snuggled
wet under the intent of you
hands/finger/tongue telling me
all I would need to know of love
is under my skin
already you are under me
skin and bare skeleton skulking sweet
sincere
the words we share amass lifetimes
in these conversations
light years
flick fireflies fluttering moon
miniature ideas going on and off
suffering
and Tony Hoagland
is me and you buried under the pleasure
of suffering
at our joint palms open
and demanding
carte
blanc/he give me everything
if you dare
I dare you to show me
what you feel when you feel least
beautiful
bundle me bare and alive
still breathing
still
breathing
beneath such nights
threatening time/travel/tears and the temptation
to call
across the miles
telling
storiesand all I want to do with
me
is tell the turgid parts bursting
brutal from the bottom
of the world
Kia Ora
they tell us tourists
and I think the laugh at us clumsy
saying words that mean more
than we will ever have the capacity
to know,
Staceyann
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
Lost the entry
that spoke of lime green walls
and photos stolen when I am thinking of you
self portraits
in a City that mocks love
and two little girls
bodies little
by the account of other hands
that have measured us
both of us
short by their calculations
we have loved the same
span of lives
watched the spied cryptex
line up like riddles that hint at cosmic connections
joined
inverted and black and white circle and square
too many journal entries
guessing
who I am in love with
today I am in love with the me taken with your neck
your heart
your tumble from sleep groping
for your glasses
cute
these letters encased in parables and windowless
houses
the cat is too fat now
to fit easy between the metal bars
pussies need so much
space to grow
so I have decided
to adopt the cat
split Solomon
in half and the mother who most loves him
will protest
let me go and I will love you
unconditional
I left you at Five a.m.
or somewhere there
and I rued the morning crisp
dragging me from you soft and Jamaican
New York is the one single day
between Kingston and New Zealand
Auckland
is the city there
not pretty there like the wide open skies
I am not meant to see green there
I am told
perhaps the next life will traverse me
landscape and water
wind surfing the sands of impossible sunsets
morning and mountains
and I have yet to see
your favorite
spot
on the ride from Mount Rosser to Montego Bay
we travel well
together
remember the Greyhound?
Cleveland
Chicago
and two little girls
in love and in trouble with everybody
who cared about us
love is a many handled thing
hold it careful, children
slow she says
slow
I remind my heart of the rapid
crashes
from shore to recovery
is a long ass time
seas be rocky
when things move too quick
so
slow down the writing
the show
showtime
is still a long way away
and me recording
pictures thinking
of you
and me
and history
repeating itself
in my mother
my sister
my blue veins oozing
purple ribbons
you bleeding
today
I am beating vociferous
truth on wet grass
you always belonged
to wild orchids
dragging the remains of the bland red
of Roses
I already know you do not prefer
from a small
cafe smothered in the heat
of you remembered
all of me
here
freezing in Brooklyn
walk good people,
Staceyann