what sea
how it is welling your eyes a wet mess
what tide
where urchins of the ocean will spill to howl their elegy
where mermaids will turn widows
once brine has swallowed whole their sailor babes
stewarding the land instead
is why i never set sail with you
but to lay in gardens, oh…
a bed sheet rotten by the ultraviolet
and our laps full of stars
what black soil will pervert your knees there
where moonlight will mirror out from your teeth
to run fanatic toward cosmic space
after bathing in the space among us
where walking air pushes every dust
one of sun-dried butterflies
one of beaten rug with broom
one of honey bee’s minus harvest
one from sands of human crust
when traced is an orb monster, Jupiter
around your left breast, so that nipple…
a blood storm just under the skin
and asking where you sowed the marigolds
is only to hear you choke the words time and water
in the same sentence
to hear you say there will be no rain for a week
while an ocean is motoring from your face
see, Jupiter is not a planet i considered living on
until i decided to bury myself there
in a garden of gas
with enough moons
to remind me
that suns only shine to cast doubt
that rains only fall to wash it away
that moons only fill themselves with light
so they may sketch shadows in the dark
that rivers are built of a mermaid torn from water
who watched her mammal so suddenly
sink from air
and out of garden
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Comments
there is water at the bottom of the ocean
carry the water at the bottom of the ocean
remove the water at the bottom of the ocean!
what black soil will pervert your knees there
where moonlight will mirror out from your teeth
to run fanatic toward cosmic space
after bathing in the space among us
you know, sometimes this is exactly what i couldn't find, or even be able to see for that matter.
thank you.
--
the sky
to night's last city
the only thing that caught me was:
"while an ocean is motoring from your face"
Motoring seems too modern a word for this, the rest is based in nature, and almost primal, whereas this word is reality, futuristic (in a way) and kind of took me back from the otherwise fantastical emotion and microcosm you described.
oh and "in a garden of gas" - didn't like gas, it's too ugly in meaning for this, and kind of lazy word choice I found.
"that suns only shine to cast doubt
that rains only fall to wash it away
that moons only fill themselves with light
so they may sketch shadows in the dark"
loved the build up over these four lines, it caught my breath.
The first two lines however are just majestic. this is majestic, just beautiful.
--
Days of wine and roses, days of wine and roses
All the artists flew in and all the arseholes flew out in '72
<`MinorKey> and don't drink so much that you remember having fun...
--
"I am not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of the world."
- Socrates
--
Life handed over a paycheck, an' I said "I worked harder than this!" - Modest Mouse
so they may sketch shadows in the dark"
my favourite part.
amazing...
--
How can I sleep without your breathing?
How can I dream without your touch?
How can I hope without your smile?
How can I be me…without you?
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