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Literature Text
You cannot look directly at the ocean
Because the ocean has become the sun:
and it has been three long days
of rubbing you from my eyes like sleep,
the sky until it turns Kahuna blue
but it is only for the voice that's heard behind closed doors,
that we pretend we cannot hear
the things which cannot keep her eyes
from raking shores- to meet
the current strong enough to shift
the space between the islands-
so it is easier to read between the lines,
and harder through you. )
I am almost
too weak for capitals
the certainty of punctuation... is it
because i do not wish for strength
that your pupils widen to transmute
the sound of the highway into current?... i am
certain of nothing except
that you are not .
Are you afraid
to be alive? Will you not
move together the continents with
your convulsions at the ocean floor? Are you
afraid of running out
of breath?
(We will uncover the finale on the fringe of our stiff fingers,
stored in the clammy fumble for the keys; the way the wind will clench
your teeth in arid preparation for the crawl of water over skin.
I will not get tired, like my body might. I have seen
the undulations of the land tremble at the thought
of losing you, I have seen you tremble at the thought
of leaving, and you say it makes you alive, but you do not remember death.
and so its just another forge-ahead and reason not to be afraid, because
I have seen you trace the weak line of destiny on your palm
like mountain ranges you can't see from your depth, and I can tell you
that the lights are shored against the flooded highway, but
you won't believe me till you're looking down
that the sky is all you need
to remain unchangeable
You have seen the poetry I cannot write:
a city sinking for the sky- will you tell me, can you say,
that it is our fault for falling in love?
Because the ocean has become the sun:
and it has been three long days
of rubbing you from my eyes like sleep,
the sky until it turns Kahuna blue
but it is only for the voice that's heard behind closed doors,
that we pretend we cannot hear
the things which cannot keep her eyes
from raking shores- to meet
the current strong enough to shift
the space between the islands-
so it is easier to read between the lines,
and harder through you. )
I am almost
too weak for capitals
the certainty of punctuation... is it
because i do not wish for strength
that your pupils widen to transmute
the sound of the highway into current?... i am
certain of nothing except
that you are not .
to be alive? Will you not
move together the continents with
your convulsions at the ocean floor? Are you
afraid of running out
of breath?
(We will uncover the finale on the fringe of our stiff fingers,
stored in the clammy fumble for the keys; the way the wind will clench
your teeth in arid preparation for the crawl of water over skin.
I will not get tired, like my body might. I have seen
the undulations of the land tremble at the thought
of losing you, I have seen you tremble at the thought
of leaving, and you say it makes you alive, but you do not remember death.
and so its just another forge-ahead and reason not to be afraid, because
I have seen you trace the weak line of destiny on your palm
like mountain ranges you can't see from your depth, and I can tell you
that the lights are shored against the flooded highway, but
you won't believe me till you're looking down
that the sky is all you need
to remain unchangeable
You have seen the poetry I cannot write:
a city sinking for the sky- will you tell me, can you say,
that it is our fault for falling in love?
Literature
Water Song
Water Song
by George Ray Arruda
All the water there is
is one
and it sings
a solitary vibratory song
Throughout the stars
within the sea
through the rivers and the streams
within both you and and me
It’s not a myth it’s not a dream
we are much more
than we seem
Linked by forces
strong and weak
if we but see
our water link
we are much greater
than we think.
Literature
an ocean only grows
a girl may shed tears
for those parted by the sea;
accumulation.
a lady can sob
in veins of wine, sweeten and
settle his sorrow.
a woman will weep
when a home leaks, leaks of a
future ne'er to be.
Literature
Adrift
The aching of life in the morn,
As we stand alone beneath the daylight star.
Yet hopelessly adrift are we,
Upon the sea so vast and endless.
Through storms and ore rolling waves unnumbered,
Like a lost child wandering far from home,
Searching for the far-off light of the distant harbor,
And our haven of rest long remembered.
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Featured in Groups
*cemetery where i married the sea
...
trust me
i'm only half-sure
...
trust me
i'm only half-sure
© 2012 - 2024 hyperfluxy
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