we knee-skinned that river red
May. 17th, 2016 05:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anonymousblackbecause it's always water with you. rainstorms and rain showers. rain and rain and rain and rain. rain, but also rivers and creeks, lake shores and flooded quarries, rising tides and receding shorelines. the inundation, the slow rush in. the trickle, the stream, the building roar. institutional swimming pools or broken sump pumps, there's always water, there's always more water, there's so much more water than either of us can take:
still we want more. or still we needed it, or still we have all become acclimated to a certain way of living in this world and how do we navigate on dry land? where can we go without the tides to take us there? yes it is always water with you, tears and tears, the congested sinus, the salivating mouth, the building urgency to urinate. and yet we splash through, soak it cold, let it go to drift: and yet we lose count in the chaos, the rushing in from every direction, the rushing over, the soaking through.
of course it is always water with you because where did we come from? where are we now? where are we going to? creatures of water, swimming to the surface, creatures of water, sharing the womb, creatures of water, twinning into lovers, twinning into that which can be alone in order to compensate for the loneliness of the singularity. lovers in water, passing water between themselves: sweat and tears, blood and semen, goddess of primordial waters, grandmother of primordial waters, grandmother outside of time, grandmother there is no time for water: it moves through us, it moves with us for a time. decades or minutes. into our most secret places or barely rippling the surface:
of course it is always water with you. we pass water between us. we divide and separate, only to roll back into one another as we bead down the window pane. water remembers just as easily as it forgets: water remembers and forgets. water combines with poisons, water carries poisons far and wide: water is a conduit for poison, be it the carrying agent, be it what gathers around the tongue to transfer the poison down the throat: and yet, just as easily, water evaporates from a matter, leaving it dusted and dry, waiting for water to return and move it again. every molecule in a swallow of our sacred waters, that countless eternity in a single drop. where has it been? who? was this once a tear i kissed from your brow? was this once the beer you pissed into an alleyway? no drop of water belongs to one of us if it hasn't belonged to all of us and not simply as a possession but instead a possessing force. water controls our behaviors. water makes us who we are. without water, we aren't anything but then again, what is water without us?
water, i suppose.
because it's always water with you. every half dreamed flood, every imagined rushing over. every drop and every deluge. every flood and every drought: every droughting flood. waters rush up around us, waters wash us through. purified in an instant, purified slowly, subtly, ages and ages. a water's age, which is not a matter i've been prepared to understand. a water's age is eternity. water is always dying and being reborn. on the shore by the ocean. in the dunes on the sand. how the water carries the salt on the wind, making the air mealy, heavy, something to swallow, something that springs forth from the core, something that rushes forgone conclusions back up to the surface.
because it's always water with you.
still we want more. or still we needed it, or still we have all become acclimated to a certain way of living in this world and how do we navigate on dry land? where can we go without the tides to take us there? yes it is always water with you, tears and tears, the congested sinus, the salivating mouth, the building urgency to urinate. and yet we splash through, soak it cold, let it go to drift: and yet we lose count in the chaos, the rushing in from every direction, the rushing over, the soaking through.
of course it is always water with you because where did we come from? where are we now? where are we going to? creatures of water, swimming to the surface, creatures of water, sharing the womb, creatures of water, twinning into lovers, twinning into that which can be alone in order to compensate for the loneliness of the singularity. lovers in water, passing water between themselves: sweat and tears, blood and semen, goddess of primordial waters, grandmother of primordial waters, grandmother outside of time, grandmother there is no time for water: it moves through us, it moves with us for a time. decades or minutes. into our most secret places or barely rippling the surface:
of course it is always water with you. we pass water between us. we divide and separate, only to roll back into one another as we bead down the window pane. water remembers just as easily as it forgets: water remembers and forgets. water combines with poisons, water carries poisons far and wide: water is a conduit for poison, be it the carrying agent, be it what gathers around the tongue to transfer the poison down the throat: and yet, just as easily, water evaporates from a matter, leaving it dusted and dry, waiting for water to return and move it again. every molecule in a swallow of our sacred waters, that countless eternity in a single drop. where has it been? who? was this once a tear i kissed from your brow? was this once the beer you pissed into an alleyway? no drop of water belongs to one of us if it hasn't belonged to all of us and not simply as a possession but instead a possessing force. water controls our behaviors. water makes us who we are. without water, we aren't anything but then again, what is water without us?
water, i suppose.
because it's always water with you. every half dreamed flood, every imagined rushing over. every drop and every deluge. every flood and every drought: every droughting flood. waters rush up around us, waters wash us through. purified in an instant, purified slowly, subtly, ages and ages. a water's age, which is not a matter i've been prepared to understand. a water's age is eternity. water is always dying and being reborn. on the shore by the ocean. in the dunes on the sand. how the water carries the salt on the wind, making the air mealy, heavy, something to swallow, something that springs forth from the core, something that rushes forgone conclusions back up to the surface.
because it's always water with you.
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no subject
Date: 2016-05-17 10:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-18 05:47 pm (UTC)of course, i've only sort of been to the desert. not the technical desert, not a place that was officially called "the desert." it was more an arid part of nebraska then wyoming. but while i was there i did think "i might need to live in the desert, someday, too."
everyone local has been complaining about the weather. someone on fb whined "will someone please set the weather to something other than seattle?" i don't know what his problem is. i would like more rain, please. more and more and more.