There comes a point the arms can only plead, When rhythm turns to something past the chest, The body makes a sentence out of need, And forward is a word that won't be blessed. You thrash against a depth you cannot chart, Convinced that stillness is a kind of grave, Each frantic motion splitting you apart, The water never asked you to be brave. It does not answer, will not fracture, will not rend, It holds the panicked and the stilled the same; What you call fighting is the pulse that will not end, Only the jaw, still clenching its own name. Until the arms go slack, the kicking quits, The back goes wide, the body sheds its seal, The chest falls open where the daylight hits— It held you as you thrashed.
This was a brave one. I'm glad you published even if you felt it wasn't perfect. I can't see where it could be improved, but that's not what matters. What matters is that the reader can feel the meaning, and for me it echoes.
My spidey senses are picking up a David Foster Wallace vibe! Thanks for taking the time to read. That random thought from before, in the chat, was the inspiration that took a turn.
This was a brave one. I'm glad you published even if you felt it wasn't perfect. I can't see where it could be improved, but that's not what matters. What matters is that the reader can feel the meaning, and for me it echoes.
Thanks Evie! I appreciate you taking the time to read and share your support. 🤍
Read’s horrifying final.
I picture a bath or a bog the way I’d picture friends and family,
The same as a person in a grocery store, coworker, the internet.
We are the water as much as we are the fish.
Really? I had no idea that existed. AI is so new and unknown to me.
My spidey senses are picking up a David Foster Wallace vibe! Thanks for taking the time to read. That random thought from before, in the chat, was the inspiration that took a turn.
You would be correct in sensing that.
The first time I heard the joke it became a core memory.
As cliche or pretentious as it may be,
I still circle back around to it in different ways.
Will have to go read the convo for context.
Just kind of sunken in and listening to Beck’s Sea Change as I would a voicemail from an old friend.
If you have enough patience to further explain the poem I’d be happy to learn.
I’m happy to do a behind the poem essay! I wasn’t sure the poem would be liked well enough for it but it’s been read a lot in a few hours.
Totally,
At least with music,
I can world build to a song and appreciate the lyrics as I hear and understand them,
While I despise “A.I.”
The beta feature, beyond the music, gives very thorough and deep analysis and context for the songs.
Which add a richer layer of understanding that often makes me experience a song I’ve listened to for years in a much grander way.
Long story short,
we we’re satisfied with our own incompetence,
So we’re making something that’s better at it,
While we attempt to “control” it.
Even though if we got “we” wanted,
We would be completely at its mercy.