After Frank Oā€™Hara / After Roger Reeves Ocean, donā€™t be afraid.Ā  The end of the road is so far aheadĀ  it is already behind us.Ā  Donā€™t worry. Your father is only your fatherĀ  until one of you forgets. Like how the spineĀ  wonā€™t remember its wingsĀ  no matter how many times our kneesĀ  kiss the pavement. Ocean,Ā  are you listening? The most beautiful partĀ  of your body is whereverĀ  your motherā€™s shadow falls.Ā  Hereā€™s the house with childhoodĀ  whittled down to a single red tripwire.Ā  Donā€™t worry. Just call itĀ horizon & youā€™ll never reach it.Ā  Hereā€™s today. Jump. I promise itā€™s notĀ  a lifeboat. Hereā€™s the manĀ  whose arms are wide enough to gatherĀ  your leaving. & here the moment,Ā  just after the lights go out, when you can still seeĀ  the faint torch between his legs.Ā  How you use it again & againĀ  to find your own hands.Ā  You asked for a second chanceĀ  & are given a mouth to empty into.Ā  Donā€™t be afraid, the gunfireĀ  is only the sound of peopleĀ  trying to live a little longer. Ocean. Ocean,Ā  get up. The most beautiful part of your bodyĀ  is where itā€™s headed. & remember,Ā  loneliness is still time spentĀ  with the world. Hereā€™sĀ  the room with everyone in it.Ā  Your dead friends passingĀ  through you like windĀ  through a wind chime. Hereā€™s a deskĀ  with the gimp leg & a brickĀ  to make it last. Yes, hereā€™s a roomĀ  so warm & blood-close,Ā  I swear, you will wakeā€”Ā  & mistake these wallsĀ  for skin.
May 7, 2024

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Ocean, donā€™t be afraid.Ā  The end of the road is so far aheadĀ  it is already behind us.Ā  Donā€™t worry. Your father is only your fatherĀ  until one of you forgets. Like how the spineĀ  wonā€™t remember its wingsĀ  no matter how many times our kneesĀ  kiss the pavement. Ocean,Ā  are you listening? The most beautiful partĀ  of your body is whereverĀ  your motherā€™s shadow falls.Ā  Hereā€™s the house with childhoodĀ  whittled down to a single red tripwire.Ā  Donā€™t worry. Just call itĀ horizon & youā€™ll never reach it.Ā  Hereā€™s today. Jump. I promise itā€™s notĀ  a lifeboat. Hereā€™s the manĀ  whose arms are wide enough to gatherĀ  your leaving. & here the moment,Ā  just after the lights go out, when you can still seeĀ  the faint torch between his legs.Ā  How you use it again & againĀ  to find your own hands.Ā  You asked for a second chanceĀ  & are given a mouth to empty into.Ā  Donā€™t be afraid, the gunfireĀ  is only the sound of peopleĀ  trying to live a little longer. Ocean. Ocean,Ā  get up. The most beautiful part of your bodyĀ  is where itā€™s headed. & remember,Ā  loneliness is still time spentĀ  with the world. Hereā€™sĀ  the room with everyone in it.Ā  Your dead friends passingĀ  through you like windĀ  through a wind chime. Hereā€™s a deskĀ  with the gimp leg & a brickĀ  to make it last. Yes, hereā€™s a roomĀ  so warm & blood-close,Ā  I swear, you will wakeā€”Ā  & mistake these wallsĀ  for skin.
Jul 1, 2024
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just found this track on spotify and i think it's just beautiful, speaks about extending yourself to someone and letting fear just be, not letting it control you but not suppressing it either. it really speaks to my life right now, trying to be genuine for someone without overwhelming myself. -- Your fingers laced in mine like five tourniquets, stopping empty words that flow from my empty nervous lips, your fingers like tourniquets. I'm enjoying the silence like this, i can hear the sound of your lips as you read me Robert Frost. And silence cross fades into a bliss that has stuck with me this week, the sound of Frost on your Lips, "Not Even The Rain" you say as you read me E.E. Cummings. I read Kevin Fitzpatrick yesterday, he talked about reading poems to his partner Tina, she was moving to a farm in Northern Minnesota. A tourniquet is that look that you give when you're right where you're supposed to be, and i know there's so many places to be. And i've never met someone who is at so many at once, even sometimes gracefully, even sometimes gracefully. Gracefully, you tell me about New York, gonna see Bruce Springsteen on broadway, i kiss you in some Portland driveway, you say sorry for being so many places at once, you wanna feel grounded with me, I say i don't wanna be your rock i want to be your sea legs If you move on will you at least give me a five star yelp review so i can be friends with your friends, my collar for your tears, my sleeve for your snot, a bout of crying as you tell me about fear of loss and giving which leads to loss which leads to fear making it hard to give your fingers laced in mine like five tourniquets, stopping words that we'd forget, i won't forget that look that you give, tie it above the wounds, i've had a rough month or two, you're like my sea legs. making out in some Portland Strangers driveway, gettin dizzy as we stumble the long way to my house, the feeling of motion as we lay still in my bed and you read me Frost and Cummings and Elliot, the feeling of motion as i lay still and you show me: how to put a moment on a page, i hang some pictures up at my new place you light the sage, your spirits lift the room higher and higher i let some dire feelings of loosing you burn with the sage i put you on pages and pages of moments and moments I got nothing to hide, you tell me about your friend Joseph who see's through peoples lies. Sometimes you hid behind your eyes making it much more potent when i see right through them, and i see right through them I let fear of you moving on burn with the sage, i put silent moments of your tourniquet fingers on the page, and i listen to your breathing and the sounds of kids playing at the school across the street as we lay through the afternoon. My collar for your tears my sleeve for your snot, some happy crying as we leave behind fear of loss, only giving, which led me here, in your arms, without fail, over moments and moments, and pages, and again only moments which lead me here in your
Dec 25, 2024
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Š ŠžŠ•Šœ Instant coffee with slightly sour cream in it, and a phone call to the beyond which doesn't seem to be coming any nearer. "Ah daddy, I wanna stay drunk many days" on the poetry of a new friend my life held precariously in the seeing hands of others, their and my impossibilities. Is this love, now that the first love has finally died, where there were no impossibilities? 1956
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