recoveringmale

Happy Poetry Day, everyone.


Oceans take our secrets
what we don't want to see or smell anymore.
We feel anonymous
we feel clean
when we throw our past away.
It will wash, we think,
It will sink
It will drift far from this shore,
It will disappear.
Maybe the fish will eat our words
maybe lost or spurned loves
will help deep-sea feathery green plants grow.

Now and again
I find myself walking on the wet, hard-packed sand
looking for tears and exotic messages
in the creeping, reaching water
that just misses touching my toes.
Sometimes there's something clear and obvious
like a fingernail or a plastic bag
though I'll never know for sure
who threw them away.
Once I found a wedding ring
uncovered by the receding tide.
I didn't touch it.
I was already married.

~Viggo Mortensen


it is my day off. i sat drinking Yerba Mat and reading Ubik for a few hours. it is still and silent outside. it is a day for cleaning, in many senses. i pick up my room, listen to the new Grant Lee Phillips record, and enjoy the silence in the air.