joannechin on Xanga

Weblog

Wednesday, 03 December 2008

Purple-faced sun

Purple-faced sun is setting. We’re watching the sunset like you asked me to
when I picked you up at your walnut front door. Now you’re sitting
on off-white sand that powders your sun-tanned legs beneath your pink and lilac dress and
our shoulders are touching beside each other. I’m caressing
your soft white hand and I wish that the sun would go on so I ask
don’t know how to say this maybe I should kneel but I turn to you and look halfway
into your eyes will you I said to you will you I see your face glowing will you I love you
marry me? So you stare back at me your face still glowing as the softness spreads across
your cheeks. What did you just say? you ask me and your eyes blink as the sun almost dips
into the blue-green of the sea. I don’t know yet how to repeat it when you asked me
What did you just say? I fumble for a dark blue-grey velvet case and pull out of my pocket
less proficient at the art than a magician and his rabbit out of his black top hat here’s a ring
I bought at Diamond District when you wondered where did I go last month? I was looking
for the multifaceted diamond ring, with light streaming through in a kaleidoscope of colors
to radiate close to your blue eyes staring into mine, the most precious and rarest
color of diamonds unearthed holding my breath. The purple-faced sun is setting, and we’re still on the sand with this painted spectacle when all the colors mix together. You drop
your eyes and catch the glint of the rock I bought at Diamond District and then you stare
back at me waiting for me so I’m not Hercules at the moment I’m a man
making his promises saying I will make you happy and I will wipe your tears and I will
never leave you waiting on the doorstep alone. I will not, your eyes are glistening,
go missing again you know now I only bought the rock to fit on your finger. Look and
watch me, I will never leave you because you will always be in my washed heart and my warmed-over thoughts. I’ll think about you even if the sky starts pouring big wet drops right now or if it’s malevolently hot out, whatever becomes, I love you. The purple-faced sun
will be jealous.

Thursday, 14 August 2008

Whiff

It smells like
fresh laundry
In open air
Mountains
Where long tall grass meets the
sky and

breeze meets me as You
compose the lines and
I sing a line of
melody. It’s a song of

Hope reverberating through
the clean crisp air that smells like
apples then trickling down
streams of
Assurance.

I see
something that reminds me of
heaven as if I had stepped right into it, or
it stepped right into me and it feels like breezes
like a stream of sparkling cool
and fire tingling in your ears
as you rush
for embrace.

Monday, 19 May 2008

PRIMA DONNA

Saturday, 10 May 2008

Photo Journal

Snippets...
DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE, Thomas Jefferson
We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal: that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness; that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed; that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.
NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS, AN AMERICAN SLAVE, Frederick Douglass
During this time, my copy-book was the board fence, brick wall, and pavement; my pen and ink was a lump of chalk. With these, I learned mainly how to write. I then commenced and continued copying the Italics in Webster's Spelling Book, until I could make them all without looking on the book. By this time, my little Master Thomas had gone to school, and learned how to write, and had written over a number of copy-books. These had been brought home, and shown to some of our near neighbors, and then laid aside. My mistress used to go to class meeting at the Wilk Street meetinghouse every Monday afternoon, and leave me to take care of the house. When left thus, I used to spend the time in writing in the spaces left in Master Thomas's copy-book, copying what he had written. I continued to do this until I could write a hand very similar to that of Master Thomas. Thus, after a long, tedious effort for years, I finally succeeded in learning how to write.
ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN, Mark Twain
I never felt easy till the raft was two mile below there and out in the middle of the Mississippi. Then we hung up our signal lantern, and judged that we was free and safe once more. I hadn't had a bite to eat since yesterday, so Jim he got out some corn-dodgers and buttermilk, and pork and cabbage and greens--there ain't nothing in the world so good when it's cooked right--and whilst I eat my supper we talked and had a good time. I was powerful glad to get away from the feuds, and so was Jim to get away from the swamp. We said there warn't no home like a raft, after all. Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don't. You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft.

THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD, Zora Neale Hurston
[Grandma] was borned in slavery time when folks, dat is black folks, didn't sit down anytime dey felt lak it. So sittin' on porches lak de white madam looked lak uh mighty fine thing tuh her. Dat's whut she wanted for me － don't keer whut it cost. Git up on uh high chair and sit dere. She didn't have time tuh think whut tuh do after you got up on de stool uh do nothin'. De object wuz tuh git dere. So Ah got up on de high stool lak she told me, but Pheoby, Ah done nearly languished tuh death up dere. Ah felt like de world wuz cryin' extry and Ah ain't read de common news yet.

Sunday, 13 April 2008

Sakura, D.C.

It was a lovely time--that Saturday morning. Raining. No crowds. A little wet. Light breezes. Cold. But we had it all to ourselves, it seemed.