in the Marquesas
the big pain... ow
they don't deserve to see me now
they did this, or rather did it by omission
left behind like a scrap at the bottom
I had to adapt- by spinning in my grave
until I dug a hole straight through...
to the dark side.
despite how it may seem on the surface,
things change constantly around here
right now I'm looking at a map and trying to envision
just exactly how big Nuku Hiva is
and stuffing two disparate foods into my mouth
because I just can't bring myself to care.
(so typical)
yes I dream about these places sometimes
and have an affinity for them,
the way the sunlight can't reach everywhere,
but the shadows always can
that's the dark side: the world apart from humans
and it goes on for miles and millennia in all directions
if I were leaving now, never to return,
my one piece of advice would be to just tell the truth
tell it forever and let it remain with the stone,
standing tall against the weathering of the years
until the Sun goes dark.
(you think that sounds poetic, maybe?
but poetry is not mere sounds or markings.
if it were it could not be translated.)
but translation must occur.
anything moving is translating.
anything standing perfectly still is waiting to speak.
any soul in anguish, wrestling with an enormity
it cannot overcome, is poetry.
a blue lagoon- this one has a blue lagoon!
are they trying to make me jealous?
or is this just my place as one who refuses
to pay the price that is asked?
there are valleys in the Marquesas so steep and inaccessible
that to visit them would virtually erase the memories
of everyone you've ever known.
~
January 2026