Archive for the ‘Verse’ Category
Open Road
September 14th, 2009 | 
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I can’t speak for others, but I can speak for myself when I say the coming of autumn fills me with the desire to hit the open road…
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A Sea Dirge by Lewis Carroll
A Sea Dirge by Lewis Carroll
There are certain things as, a spider, a ghost,
The income-tax, gout, an umbrella for three…
That I hate, but the thing that I hate the most
Is a thing they call the Sea.
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Happy New Year
Here’s hoping that war will cease and that famine and poverty
will go away.
Here’s to no one being too rich at the expense of someone
being too poor.
Here’s to hoping everyone will have clean water to drink.
Here’s hoping that everyone will have a home.
Saturday Morning Dylan
Paddling & poetry often go together, at least in my crazy head. In paddling poetry is everywhere; In those moments you look up over a break wall to see dark clouds coming from beyond. When you hear a the whistle of a sudden wind against your ear that forces your eyes to scan all directions of the horizon. When a first drop of rain taps on your hull with the sound of a muted snare. When the surf captures you and you realize that you are suddenly without any control. When you find yourself upside down in a dark, airless, cold silence. When the VHF blurts unintelligible static into a moment of thick humid nothing. When the sun sets over a snow covered shore. These are just a few of the sensual moments of paddling that sometimes sing like poetry.
Saturday Morning Blake
Earth’s Answer
Earth raised up her head
From the darkness dread and drear,
Her light fled,
Stony, dread,
And her locks covered with grey despair.
Slipstream
Well the lush separation unfolds you –
and the products of wealth
push you along on the bow wave
of the spiritless undying selves.
And you press on God’s waiter your last dime –
as he hands you the bill.
And you spin in the slipstream –
timeless — unreasoning –
paddle right out of the mess.
- Tull
The Monday After
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCjFTsvL7mk
And let me try
With pleasured hands
To take you and the sun to
Promised lands
- the zombies
Welcome to the Monday after. The Monday after the last weekend after the holiday weekend. The Monday after the first Tuesday of School. The Monday after the first weekend when a long holiday is no longer an option. The Monday when all hope is truly lost. The Monday when autumn slipped through that still open summer’s night window and woke you with a cold shock. The Monday after the first Sunday of a new football season. The Monday when the first thing I read was that firing off just 1/300th of 1% of the world’s nuclear arsenal would drop the worlds temperature by 2 degrees causing something worse than the Little Ice Age (between the 15th & 19th century). The Monday after the conventions when politics really get stupid. The Monday when the Zombies are more appropriate than the Beach boys. The Monday after my last paddling class of the season, when being wet sort of sucks, when people realize they should have taken the class sooner. The Monday that signals a time when summer lust turns to love . . . or turns off. The Monday when Lemons and limes give away to apples and cinnamon. The Monday when I really start looking forward visiting friends in Israel which is much better than just looking forward to snow.
