Old man, you surface seldom.
Then you come in with the tideâs coming
When seas wash cold, foam-
Capped: white hair, white beard, far-flung,
A dragnet, rising, falling, as waves
Crest and trough. Miles long
Extend the radial sheaves
Of your spread hair, in which wrinkling skeins
Knotted, caught, survives
The old myth of origins
Unimaginable. You float near
As keeled ice-mountains
Of the north, to be steered clear
Of, not fathomed. All obscurity
Starts with a danger:
Your dangers are many. I
Cannot look much but your form suffers
Some strange injury
And seems to die: so vapors
Ravel to clearness on the dawn sea.
The muddy rumors
Of your burial move me
To half-believe: your reappearance
Proves rumors shallow,
For the archaic trenched lines
Of your grained face shed time in runnels:
Ages beat like rains
On the unbeaten channels
Of the ocean. Such sage humor and
Durance are whirlpools
To make away with the ground-
Work of the earth and the skyâs ridgepole.
Waist down, you may wind
One labyrinthine tangle
To root deep among knuckles, shin-
           bones,
Skulls. Inscrutable,
Below shoulders not once
Seen by any man who kept his head,
You defy questions;
You defy godhood.
I walk dry on your kingdomâs border
Exiled to no good.
Your shelled bed I remember.
Father, this thick air is murderous.
I would breathe water.
Feb 11, 2025
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âBut it is hard to speak of these things/how the voices of light enter the body/and begin to write their stories/how the earth holds us painfully against its breast made of humor and bramblesâŠwhere we stand in the tremble of thought/taking the vast outside into ourselvesâ (Directions, 11).Â
Jan 28, 2024
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there is something figuratively beautiful about the things we know and donât 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,Â
accepting us as kin
letting her wind tousle our raw, visceral edgesÂ
and pepper them with her sea-foamed kissesÂ
which tell me that itâs 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 donât 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?Â
i donât think they do.Â
but the ocean doesnât have any words for me, instead shutting my mouth with a shhhhÂ
as her sandy dress rustles down the shore, laced with white foam and gossamer trails of ripples
and wordlessly, tells me to lookÂ
and i do.Â
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 oceanâs hand, dancing to their own secret rhythm,Â
letting me see them in their love.
personally, i think itâs 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,Â
like petals cast off from a chrysanthemum.
and then, we were wordlessÂ
like the ocean had never spoken in the first place.Â
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, heroinÂ
and better than any gateway into a better lifeÂ
or a better existence, transcending normality
and the moment itâs 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,Â
into an inferno.Â
Sunrise:: being alight || with a halo of only thoughts and dreams || and the divinity of something new
3d ago
đ„
Raw shore of paradise
which the long waves reach
just as they fail
one after the other
bare strand beyond which
at times I believe I see
as in a glass darkly
what I know here
and now cannot be
a face I can never touch
a gaze that cannot stay
which I catch sight of
still turned upon me
following me
from under the sky
of your groundless country
that has no syllable of its own
what good to you are the treasures beyond
words or number
that you seize forever
unmapped imperium
when only here
in the present
which has lost them
only now
in the moment you
have not yet taken
does anyone know them
or how rare they are
Apr 9, 2024
Top Recs from @eerieplease
i decided to spend my birthday last year in patagonia because i wanted to go on an adventure and see beautiful things. the initial plan was to go to antarctica but that didnât work out so i decided to go to as close to the end of the world as i could. itâs really one of those trips that make you believe in the glorious mysteries of life. exploring the wilderness while listening to black marbleâs âitâs immaterialâ was wonderful.
Jan 6, 2025
đŠą
it is not the root of all suffering it is the root of all fun
Apr 17, 2025
this website plays songs while showing us the most poignant comments people left in their respective youtube comment section. it's so wonderfully nostalgic.
"autumn sweater - yo la tengo: acid. fetal position. yes, this will do."
Apr 24, 2025