Memorable Passages

[Boon Mee]

[Boon Mee]

[Boon Mee]

[Elvis]

[Boon Mee]

[Boon Mee]

[Delayed]

Just sailed down the west coast of north America. Now in La Paz Baja california sur. That has been a memorable passage

[Mid]

^

well done , suspect you are glad it's over ?

lee shore and no where to run to .........................

[Delayed]

It is a funny thing most land lubbers think that coastal cruising is easier than offshore. I am much more relaxed when we have some sea room between land and my plastic bottom. It was neat to anchor in some desolate places which were wide open to the Pacific often on 3 sides. The worst weather is since we turned the corner and are heading North in the Sea of Cortez. Gale force Northerlies for 2 weeks getting anci in the big city.

[Boon Mee]

O Ship Of State by Longfellow

[Boon Mee]

[Boon Mee]

Prayers of Steel by Carl Sandburg

Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Beat me and hammer me into a crowbar.
Let me pry loose old walls.
Let me lift and loosen old foundations.

Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
Drive me into the girders that hold a skyscraper together.
Take red-hot rivets and fasten me into the central girders.
Let me be the great nail holding a skyscraper through blue nights into white stars.

[Boon Mee]

From Calmly We Walk through This April Day by Delmore Schwartz

Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.

[Boon Mee]

Song of Myself | Whitman 1855

I too am not a bit tamed . . . . I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

The last scud of day holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadowed wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.

I depart as air . . . . I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies and drift it in lacy jags.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop some where waiting for you

[Boon Mee]