a poem by Gary Snyder
I’m wondering where you are now
Married, or mad, or free:
Wherever you are you’re likely glad,
But memory troubles me.
We could’ve had us children,
We could’ve had a home—
But you thought not, and I thought not,
And these nine years we roam.
Today I worked in the deep dark tanks,
And climbed out to watch the sea:
Gulls and salty waves pass by,
And mountains of Araby.
I’ve travelled the lonely oceans
And wandered the lonely towns.
I’ve learned a lot and lost a lot,
And proved the world was round.
Now if we’d stayed together,
There’s much we’d never’ve known—
But dreary books and weary lands
Weigh on me like a stone.
Indian Ocean, 1959