Rec | SOMEDAY I’LL LOVE OCEAN VUONG

😃

After Frank O’Hara / After Roger Reeves Ocean, don’t be afraid. The end of the road is so far ahead it is already behind us. Don’t worry. Your father is only your father until one of you forgets. Like how the spine won’t remember its wings no matter how many times our knees kiss the pavement. Ocean, are you listening? The most beautiful part of your body is wherever your mother’s shadow falls. Here’s the house with childhood whittled down to a single red tripwire. Don’t worry. Just call it horizon & you’ll never reach it. Here’s today. Jump. I promise it’s not a lifeboat. Here’s the man whose arms are wide enough to gather your leaving. & here the moment, just after the lights go out, when you can still see the faint torch between his legs. How you use it again & again to find your own hands. You asked for a second chance & are given a mouth to empty into. Don’t be afraid, the gunfire is only the sound of people trying to live a little longer. Ocean. Ocean, get up. The most beautiful part of your body is where it’s headed. & remember, loneliness is still time spent with the world. Here’s the room with everyone in it. Your dead friends passing through you like wind through a wind chime. Here’s a desk with the gimp leg & a brick to make it last. Yes, here’s a room so warm & blood-close, I swear, you will wake— & mistake these walls for skin.

@capyboppy

May 7, 2024

see likes

Comments (0)

Make an account to reply.

No comments yet

Related Recs

📜

Someday i’ll love ocean Vuong

Ocean, don’t be afraid. The end of the road is so far ahead it is already behind us. Don’t worry. Your father is only your father until one of you forgets. Like how the spine won’t remember its wings no matter how many times our knees kiss the pavement. Ocean, are you listening? The most beautiful part of your body is wherever your mother’s shadow falls. Here’s the house with childhood whittled down to a single red tripwire. Don’t worry. Just call it horizon & you’ll never reach it. Here’s today. Jump. I promise it’s not a lifeboat. Here’s the man whose arms are wide enough to gather your leaving. & here the moment, just after the lights go out, when you can still see the faint torch between his legs. How you use it again & again to find your own hands. You asked for a second chance & are given a mouth to empty into. Don’t be afraid, the gunfire is only the sound of people trying to live a little longer. Ocean. Ocean, get up. The most beautiful part of your body is where it’s headed. & remember, loneliness is still time spent with the world. Here’s the room with everyone in it. Your dead friends passing through you like wind through a wind chime. Here’s a desk with the gimp leg & a brick to make it last. Yes, here’s a room so warm & blood-close, I swear, you will wake— & mistake these walls for skin.

@mouse

Jul 1, 2024

⭐

the ocean

there is something figuratively beautiful about the things we know and don’t know, the sublime and mundane and when you visit the beach, do you ever think about if the animals who live in the embrace of the depths remember the beauty of the ocean? where the salt envelops every single one of us, accepting us as kin letting her wind tousle our raw, visceral edges and pepper them with her sea-foamed kisses which tell me that it’s okay to pretend and okay to tell the ocean all of myself the ocean reaches out to me, hands cloaked in the sharp coolness of water and something else- something i don’t understand as I poke around in a tide pool, like a vendor at a bustling market, observing the wares that the ocean has to offer and i turn around and ask her, do the barnacles see themselves? do anemones understand their own beauty, fragile and ephemeral? i don’t think they do. but the ocean doesn’t have any words for me, instead shutting my mouth with a shhhh as her sandy dress rustles down the shore, laced with white foam and gossamer trails of ripples and wordlessly, tells me to look and i do. until the sun hurriedly retreats from the wispy radiance of the moon, enrobed in puffy clouds and it's just the three of us. the moon tugs at the ocean’s hand, dancing to their own secret rhythm, letting me see them in their love. personally, i think it’s beautiful \\ and i wish i had something like it and the ocean laughs. nothing jeering or ridiculing, simply an acknowledgement that i understand. everything around me falls, like petals cast off from a chrysanthemum. and then, we were wordless like the ocean had never spoken in the first place. i want to descend into the depths of the ocean one day, to be hugged once more and never again. not because i am tired of being alive, but frankly within me exists too much zeal to live. uncontrollable surges of wow i am alive in flesh, blood through my veins, and thoughts in my head become more addictive than any form of fentanyl, cocaine, heroin and better than any gateway into a better life or a better existence, transcending normality and the moment it’s just me in my head, without the viscous energy of being alive suddenly drains me like a leaking bucket, decrepit and dry. i want to burn like a torch, setting my world alight into embers, into flames, into an inferno. Sunrise:: being alight || with a halo of only thoughts and dreams || and the divinity of something new

@neiternal

3d ago

🌊

OCEAN VUONG, TIME IS A MOTHER

“I guess what I mean is that I ate the apple not because the man lied when he said I was born of his rib but that I wanted to fill myself with its hunger for the ground, where the bones of my people still dream of me.” the most beautifully haunting sentence i’ve eve read