. These here are uncommon waters these here are things never encountered. These here are a sit of circumstances never encountered and never planned for. Here there be dragons and monsters and things unplanned and unanticipated. These here be crisis and discontent and blind stumbling down an ugly destructive path. These here be cold hearts. These here be mild interest and, again, self destruction. Hopes gone with the last beer with the last shot. These here be callous inconsideration and misguided dreams. Here be self-interest and unknowing hatred. Unknowing ill-regard. Unknowing non-friends but mostly blind disregard made manifest by the last clutching for meaning. Here there be the you that hurt me. Deliberately. Coldly. Menacing. In blurs. In quick cuts and mostly in ignorance. And delightful callous egocentric blasphemy and cold. The cold that cuts like paper and burns just as readily. Unseen by you, but felt by me, Here there be dragons.
I just rediscovered this draft. It would appear that I had the phrase uncommon waters running through my head for some time now, as far back as April 14, and I’m willing to bet well before that. For a while it was going to be the next poetry exercise I gave Erin to work with, to write a poem by that title, but I kept coming up with other assignments—and I felt it was cheating as I already had some ideas brewing.
And then I got really drunk wrote this draft in a bar.
I’m unsure if I should fork it into its own poem or call it an early draft of Entanglement and be done.
From what I can piece together, the phrase mangled wood dates to around April 23 when I ran into a road called Minglewood. I instantly thought of mangled wood and how well it fit with uncommon waters.
Those phrases simmered for a while along with a lot of Astronomy Cast, and lies, and deceit, and hurt feelings, and painful-situations-for-which-I-have-no-words, and over a month later I have a poem. Yay.
If you were to ask me if it was worth it, I would answer no.