i wish it would rain everyday,
droplets clinging to colorful square flags
glistening from orange parking lot light like crooked teeth,
the changing gales matching the swells in my shrinking body,
searching for hidden messages
in the chaotic melodies colliding with sidewalks and rooftops,
the damp embrace—
a remainder of cold fingers
topped with chipped cosmic blue acrylic,
soaked leaves from branch tumbling,
like strands of dyed hair from wilting scalp—
when the rains stops,
i wish it would rain again
but as radiant light extends to each corner, crevice
to dry the water of last nights fall,
it is a liberation from the suffocating fluid—
from the sopping jacket so heavy on your body—
evaporating upwards, you follow.
Trinh T. Minh-ha, Surname Viet Given Name Nam, 1989.
Than em nhu tam lua dao
Phat pho giua cho biet vao tay ai?
Em ngoi canh truc, em tua canh mai,
Dong dao tay lieu, biet lay ai ban cung?
(I am like a piece of silk
Floating in the midst of the market, knowing not into whose hands it will fall
Sitting on a reed, leaning against an apricot branch
Between the peach tree to the East and the willow to the West
Who shall I befriend for a lifetime?)
Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, repetitive pattern (1975), via uc berkeley art museum
"She Always Takes It Black"
Gregory Alan Isakov