The Tattooed Poets Project: Su Zi

Our next tattooed poet is Su Zi.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibodj-_MEtaX-MMqzIWJYtTO7pKmaqo1wmqia_5GSUVzDsBVrJRN1I-ssjzhPx_8a6KJAIkAZbjb94F6bLwk7hXmhiZMR-edJWZNZ4EoRBCl1PQ1Bp8VzWKXoZE6Ufl1uIYOl3fL4kId8/s615/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibodj-_MEtaX-MMqzIWJYtTO7pKmaqo1wmqia_5GSUVzDsBVrJRN1I-ssjzhPx_8a6KJAIkAZbjb94F6bLwk7hXmhiZMR-edJWZNZ4EoRBCl1PQ1Bp8VzWKXoZE6Ufl1uIYOl3fL4kId8/s640/photo.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><br />As you can see, she has a few tattoos.<br /><br />Of her body art, she selected this piece to share:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQU6GmA1aJpVURhfZQci_0wSMRNMvnu5Z4BBlo_B-2ujMB2CQi-_f1jOfkLHLDAuSKcgM1-vUDswG_bXxlzPg77wzvHZ6beBbL5jVBVcMsGTaGvF65gzVUYbZ6e5CJe3i5ofNA48aj3RY/s747/tat+poet+portrait+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQU6GmA1aJpVURhfZQci_0wSMRNMvnu5Z4BBlo_B-2ujMB2CQi-_f1jOfkLHLDAuSKcgM1-vUDswG_bXxlzPg77wzvHZ6beBbL5jVBVcMsGTaGvF65gzVUYbZ6e5CJe3i5ofNA48aj3RY/s640/tat+poet+portrait+004.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />Su Zi explains:<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">"I am sending ... a fuller portrait, and ... the tattoo on my knee ... holding a cup and saucer with the same motif. I chose this tattoo because it is the only china pattern I like. I was given this set of china by my grandmother, with whom I felt close. I liked the pattern for its mystical whimsy, and tried to keep my set intact through a tempestuous life. I also miss my Grandmother. In the winter of 2012, I had <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.154058237971128.26710.153902747986677&type=3">Liz Gruesome</a> tattoo the pattern on my knee at the <a href="http://deanaskinart.com/flyer.htm">Marked For Life</a> convention (generally, all women artists), to which I have been a faithful attendee since its inception. I chose my knee, because that's where I habitually set my cup when I am trying to be proper in company -- as I was taught, you know? I like the idea of the pattern on the cup being repeated on my knee--or vice versa. It was not the most painless choice I could make, but that's part of the totem--yes?"</blockquote>Incidentally, Liz Gruesome works out of <a href="http://www.sgtattoo.com/index2.php">Smokin' Guns Tattoo</a> in Fayetteville, North Carolina.<br /><br />Su Zi sent us a poem to accompany the tattoo. Entitled "Three Days," she likes "the synchronicity of the Gramma tattoo and the poem ... a sort of matrilineal theme to it all, and death and loss and all that."<br /><br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><b>                                                  Three Days</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">1 Hallows</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The Frankenstorm has put frost on the blades of <st1:state>Florida</st1:state></div><div class="MsoNormal">     and there are angry dishes in the kitchen</div><div class="MsoNormal">     of this house that you touched briefly so long ago.</div><div class="MsoNormal">The tree you planted is full, vigorous and larger than expected.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Your tears in the water are a chemistry beyond your degree.</div><div class="MsoNormal">There’s a full moon that is livid in the northeast</div><div class="MsoNormal">     and a pink candle in the window to the north,</div><div class="MsoNormal">     because you have aged past</div><div class="MsoNormal">     Jack O Lanterns</div><div class="MsoNormal">     and my children have fur.</div><div class="MsoNormal">You would be eighty one today</div><div class="MsoNormal">     and my costume is your habit: jeans, flannel, thick boots,</div><div class="MsoNormal">      preoccupied scowl.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Of your many gifts, I have your eyebrows</div><div class="MsoNormal">     your soup recipe ---</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh how I would invoke</div><div class="MsoNormal">     your lullaby or your laugh.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">2 Saints</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The flesh of the earth yields,</div><div class="MsoNormal">     turning between small, square palms.</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is the day for dice and the washing of graves,</div><div class="MsoNormal">So the last feathers of the late storm</div><div class="MsoNormal">     make a thousand thousand perfect circles at <st1:time hour="15" minute="0">3pm</st1:time></div><div class="MsoNormal">     to the gratitude of the grass, which glows,</div><div class="MsoNormal">     to the glory of the names facing skyward.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is our oval, rising into shapes</div><div class="MsoNormal">     veils of evaporation</div><div class="MsoNormal">     urns of clay</div><div class="MsoNormal">The full moon later</div><div class="MsoNormal">       with Jupiter on her shoulder</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">3 Souls</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">In the blue of the morning,</div><div class="MsoNormal">      while the oldest oak still dreams of night’s mists,</div><div class="MsoNormal">The moon pales west past fallows and pastures</div><div class="MsoNormal">      dew spangled cobwebs,</div><div class="MsoNormal">      tiny skittering birds</div><div class="MsoNormal">My hands speak all day of grain and reins,</div><div class="MsoNormal">    keypads, of a bruise,</div><div class="MsoNormal">       of the definitive slant of light,</div><div class="MsoNormal">       of these moments without memory</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yet my attire is your lesson:</div><div class="MsoNormal">       big sweaters, careless hair,</div><div class="MsoNormal">       bare face, blue jeans</div><div class="MsoNormal">       my meal is dinner, because</div><div class="MsoNormal">       that’s what you taught,</div><div class="MsoNormal">       and there’s the purchased plate of fried shrimp.</div><div class="MsoNormal">In fact, the chocolate phosphate of your Depression Era soda-fountain childhood</div><div class="MsoNormal">       is now an unspoken institution at the dam diner: a legacy</div><div class="MsoNormal">       to those who never knew you.</div><div class="MsoNormal">There’s no one to see</div><div class="MsoNormal">       your echo in my face</div><div class="MsoNormal">       the jokes made only we would find funny.</div><div class="MsoNormal">We are women who look down when we walk,</div><div class="MsoNormal">       and now today walking</div><div class="MsoNormal">   There were all those we took</div><div class="MsoNormal">      so the conversation continues</div><div class="MsoNormal">       your word</div><div class="MsoNormal">       my honor</div><div class="MsoNormal">   all the internal, reflexive anachronisms.</div><div class="MsoNormal">It was on this very porch</div><div class="MsoNormal">    we decided</div><div class="MsoNormal">    how it would be</div><div class="MsoNormal">     when that phone call came</div><div class="MsoNormal">I said “can you make it so”</div><div class="MsoNormal">And you said “I can do that”</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thus, it was</div><div class="MsoNormal">    (and it was strength to hold fast when unknown voices</div><div class="MsoNormal">    counseled otherwise, but</div><div class="MsoNormal">    you were wise “ignore them”</div><div class="MsoNormal">     thus, it was)</div><div class="MsoNormal">Okay, maybe I am an odd girl</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am your girl</div><div class="MsoNormal">     ending three days homage birthday</div><div class="MsoNormal">     with this memento mori</div><div class="MsoNormal">     of that one morning</div><div class="MsoNormal">   I called you, your voice a single guttural wheeze</div><div class="MsoNormal">   As the Parkinson’s froze your throat</div><div class="MsoNormal">   and I said “I just called to listen to your life”</div><div class="MsoNormal">For a minute I heard your room through the telephone</div><div class="MsoNormal">      until your lost grasp.</div><div class="MsoNormal">A few mornings later, it was <st1:time hour="10" minute="35">10:35</st1:time>, the nurse answered,</div><div class="MsoNormal">     Unwilling to leave your couch and TV, gave breezy syllables</div><div class="MsoNormal">But it was then</div><div class="MsoNormal">           just then</div><div class="MsoNormal">           your final stillness</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yet I felt you for hours.</div><div class="MsoNormal">At <st1:time hour="16" minute="0">4pm</st1:time> there was a wind of relief</div><div class="MsoNormal">       full sails of joy</div><div class="MsoNormal">I felt you blossom</div><div class="MsoNormal">     into the physics without formula.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Now this gibbous moon rides forty degrees into her ascent</div><div class="MsoNormal">     and the crickets are the symphony of summer age seven</div><div class="MsoNormal">     nothing will be as crisp as those new cotton pajamas</div><div class="MsoNormal">     after a post-sunburn bath</div><div class="MsoNormal">And if our bodies remember</div><div class="MsoNormal">    all the ways</div><div class="MsoNormal">   then this is one of your many</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thus, it is</div><div class="MsoNormal">    square hands never resting,</div><div class="MsoNormal">    opening not to ashes, but</div><div class="MsoNormal">    to <st1:time hour="0" minute="0">midnight</st1:time>,</div><div class="MsoNormal">     the creeping chill</div><div class="MsoNormal"> An awaited whisper that I</div><div class="MsoNormal">      know is yours</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">  ~ ~ ~<o:p></o:p></div><br /><br />Su Zi has published poems in <a href="http://www.newamericanwriting.com/">New American Writing</a>, <a href="http://www.corpse.org/">Exquisite Corpse</a> ("when it was a print zine and somewhere after it went online"), <a href="http://www.nathanielturner.com/newlaurelreview.htm">New Laurel Review</a>, the now-defunct <i>Mesachabe</i>, and in an anthology called <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0980114101/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0980114101&linkCode=as2&tag=bill03-20%22%3ECadence%20of%20Hooves:%20A%20Celebration%20of%20Horses:%20Contemporary%20Poetry%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=bill03-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0980114101%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;%22%20/%3E">Cadence of Hooves</a>. She has published stories and articles (in print, a while back, in <a href="http://www.naturalhorse.com/">Natural Horse</a> and, online, at <i>Gypsy Art</i> and <a href="http://www.cosmoetica.com/">Cosmoetica</a>). SuZi is also an artist, and some of her work is visible in her etsy shop <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/suzi00">here</a> (<a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/suzi00">www.etsy.com/shop/suzi00</a>). She also publishes a chapbook series disguised as a magazine, that's really artist-made books--hand printed covers, hand sewn bindings-- that has its own Facebook page: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/RedMarePress">Red Mare magazine</a>. She invites readers to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/RedMarePress">subscribe</a>.<br /><br />Thanks to Su Zi for her contribution to this year's Tattooed Poets Project on Tattoosday!<br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><b id="internal-source-marker_0.4993943637236953" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This entry is ©2013 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoos are reprinted with the poet's permission.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit </span><a href="http://tattoosday.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://tattoosday.blogspot.com</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.</span></span></b>

The Tattooed Poets Project: Su Zi

Our next tattooed poet is Su Zi. As you can see, she has a few tattoos. Of her body art, she selected this piece to share: Su Zi explains: ...

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