Reciting Neruda

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The sea at Batroun on April 12, 2015

Reciting poetry as the sea goes on singing, careless, eternal, folding me under its waves like a creature made of salt dissolving into the eternal womb that shaped him. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find myself flung amid the sunlit curves of a woman, seashells bloomed into white flowers, sipping at her pores; or I’ll be a string of pearls rocking against her warm breasts, adorning them as dewdrops made of milk, the froth of the sea; or I’ll be a dash of salt etching into her skin the restless tears burning in the belly of the sea. Alike, for now my bones melt, and this song that I am is thrashed into oblivion under the hammering waves of the infinite monster, this beautiful blue beast.

5 thoughts on “Reciting Neruda

        1. Sailors say that the sea is treacherous, and that it can take the most experienced by surprise, throw them off course or even drown them. The sea opens me to the danger that is life and living. One either recoils or gathers his heart and pushes through the waves.

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