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The Sea is not
your lover your mother your homecoming and you don’t have to drown to learn as much (but you will). Why do you stare at the horizon like home is a journey and not the rebirth you’ve been looking for like every single renaissance is (out there) and for so long you’ve been standing sleeping living in nothing. God’s paint is dribbling at your ankles rubbing against your sacrificial shins, whispering to the oil inside your body to come out and play. You look at that horizon like you want to unravel but the tide has never been strong enough like you want to go somewhere and never come back and you want to trade all those bad words for just one good bye so you hang them from your palms, hold them above your head wade out into the canvas, until you’re clavicle deep in the holy then you wait for the good one. the sunrise. the tidal wave that takes you back to shore and it (never) comes.
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Lino Anunciacion
Lino Anunciacion is a Texas-transplant spoken word artist based in Bryan, Texas. He serves as President of the non profit poetry organization, Mic Check Poetry, and Director of Texas Grand Slam Poetry Festival, the largest individual poetry festival in Texas. He is the author of And Then You Begin To Sing, as well as four other books. He works as the Senior Media Manager for Write Bloody Publishing and studies full time at Texas A&M University. Contact him at linolatrell@gmail.com and follow him on twitter @lighthousing_ |
