#1. The tweet.
“& remember, / loneliness is still time spent / with the world.”
A poem by Ocean Vuong.
[Thursday 02 September 2021]
2:46am
SocialFlow
- 21 Retweets
- 2 Quote Tweets
- 86 Likes
#2. The at
@NewYorker
The New Yorker
#3. The bio
Unparalleled reporting and commentary on politics and culture, plus humor and cartoons, fiction and poetry, reviews, and criticism.
#4. The location
New York, NY
#5. The website
https://www.newyorker.com/
#6. Join month
May 2008
#7. Following number
389
#8. Followers number
8.9 million [241 of which I follow]
#9. OTHER text
This one features a link to the full poem:
"Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong"
By Ocean Vuong
[Monday 27 April 2015]
Ocean, don’t be afraid.
The end of the road is so far ahead
it is already behind us.
Don’t worry. Your father is only your father
until one of you forgets. Like how the spine
won’t remember its wings
no matter how many times our knees
kiss the pavement. Ocean,
are you listening? The most beautiful part
of your body is wherever
your mother’s shadow falls.
Here’s the house with childhood
whittled down to a single red tripwire.
Don’t worry. Just call it horizon
& you’ll never reach it.
Here’s today. Jump. I promise it’s not
a lifeboat. Here’s the man
whose arms are wide enough to gather
your leaving. & here the moment,
just after the lights go out, when you can still see
the faint torch between his legs.
How you use it again & again
to find your own hands.
You asked for a second chance
& are given a mouth to empty into.
Don’t be afraid, the gunfire
is only the sound of people
trying to live a little longer. Ocean. Ocean,
get up. The most beautiful part of your body
is where it’s headed. & remember,
loneliness is still time spent
with the world. Here’s
the room with everyone in it.
Your dead friends passing
through you like wind
through a wind chime. Here’s a desk
with the gimp leg & a brick
to make it last. Yes, here’s a room
so warm & blood-close,
I swear, you will wake—
& mistake these walls
for skin.
Published in the print edition of the May 4, 2015, issue.
//
Ocean Vuong has published the novel “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” and the poetry collection “Night Sky with Exit Wounds,” which won the 2017 T. S. Eliot Prize.