one entry describes how
I wasn’t writing for the archivist
or some time when metaphors
go out of style I wrote it says
for the bottle with the note inside
turning and turning on the waves
in an ocean now so full of waste
it may never reach the child
playing alone on some beach
the creator of the world
who could still read the note –
please come soon they have turned
words into money and worship
it and dance around it
3 comments:
despondent, the protagonist in Tarkovsky's "The Sacrifice" leans to rest on a couch. a single coin rolls out and makes all sorts of empty clatter, a cymbal announcing the last war of the world.
yesterday on a rock near large water i stood and read "burnt norton". nearby the coast guard men were working. i turned my back on them. birds wheeled overhead. i read on.
keep on with the bottles. keep on with the magic.
Thanks, Erin. I love this gentle ratio perspective you're doing, all sites where the world is balanced, on the edge of a lake or tree. You inspire me.
you inspire me.
and prove to me that we're not alone. nor lost. (oh, time to time, perhaps, when we lose sight.)
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