I want the walls papered in Neruda, Williams, Giovanni, A lil Diaz and Rita Dove-just a lil bit, Cypress, Sassafrass, and Indigo peppered with two or three reams of For Colored Girls...Cuz my rainbow has felt like it has been enuf quite a few times...
An urban love poem- A collage of self love and his love and my kiss from god bricolage style.
The dove will be where I left it...in the soap dish, and jean michel will taunt me from the bookcase...challenge me to understand him...to understand me...all whilst romare is on the block pointing and chuckling at us.
clothes will be strewn on ebony wicker and mohogany wood in color coated mounds with accessories that dont match...
orange weather beaten purse, brown sister beaten purse with complimentary sister assaulted boots lay peacefully in front of them betwixt cognac and brandy...boots those are- My liquor looks best atop the cabinet with my glass canisters below the ones that hold the rice and tea and sugar just so...
they look fancy in there; my $1.99 sugar in an $8 jar just the way I like...
the way my $100 scarf looks its best atop a $30 coat and the way they both have fallen off the hanger to their rightful place on the floor of my closet where they will rest until their invitation to the big show...the day when they will be laid out most particularly on my velvety sheets next to my indian silk dressed pillows the sensual luxury that is...and will be again my preferred bedroom aesthetic...
at MY place
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