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I. Sunning beside a sheer cliffside Upon monuments of sediment baked in cooling salts a liquid caress Bitter winds eddy the pulsing surface which breaks to rake smoothly a tide from the steaming sand In swallowing beat a swollen retreat again through the depthless sea Bubbling secrets that rise into foam II. The bodies beneath the still water Sweep through brown clouds that, In their opacity, and among the weeds, Curling, beckoning, uncurling allow their scales to catch light And with one rare eye, penetrating I am seen, waiting III. I followed the stars into your home and thought to see, keep what treasures I touched in their abundance, you wouldn’t miss one if you noticed I had been there. But, you always saw me and gifted me life, at once, and death to life before and to know your place in heaven is to eternally wish to wet my feet in your waters IV. I want you to bury me. From my tongue, taste conquest. I will be still except to clench my fist and fill my palm with you. The noise at the back of my throat- Don’t stop. Bury me.
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Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 12:30 PM UTC
Songs of Brine
I. Sunning beside a sheer cliffside Upon monuments of sediment baked in cooling salts a liquid caress Bitter winds eddy the pulsing surface which breaks to rake smoothly a tide from the steaming sand In swallowing beat a swollen retreat again through the depthless sea Bubbling secrets that rise into foam II. The bodies beneath the still water Sweep through brown clouds that, In their opacity, and among the weeds, Curling, beckoning, uncurling allow their scales to catch light And with one rare eye, penetrating I am seen, waiting III. I followed the stars into your home and thought to see, keep what treasures I touched in their abundance, you wouldn’t miss one if you noticed I had been there. But, you always saw me and gifted me life, at once, and death to life before and to know your place in heaven is to eternally wish to wet my feet in your waters IV. I want you to bury me. From my tongue, taste conquest. I will be still except to clench my fist and fill my palm with you. The noise at the back of my throat- Don’t stop. Bury me.
The text to a song cycle about love.
mayajo
Written by
23/Ann Arbor
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 12:30 PM UTC
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