Some will only bivouac,
And others mean to stay a while.
Neither’s ever out of style,
So when you are to be attached
Be sure to know if this will last
a century, or pass too fast.
23 June, 2017
14 June, 2017
13 June, 2017
#0119 - A Moment Amongst Sunlit Waves
The sun-streaked waves, they roll across
the ocean's tranquil, sapphire blues.
The sun, while watching many ac-
-res, colours skies with splendid hues.
All moments turn to memories;
although they're gone in rapid time,
their lucid shadows never cease
to paint a landscape in your mind.
So take your senses, dive within
the sky, the sea, the sun, the rain—
they won't again, while you still live,
appear the same as on this day.
the ocean's tranquil, sapphire blues.
The sun, while watching many ac-
-res, colours skies with splendid hues.
All moments turn to memories;
although they're gone in rapid time,
their lucid shadows never cease
to paint a landscape in your mind.
So take your senses, dive within
the sky, the sea, the sun, the rain—
they won't again, while you still live,
appear the same as on this day.
12 June, 2017
#0118 - Moments: 11.6.17
"Je t'emmerde."
"Je t'emmerde."
"No, you're rolling the r. Don't roll the r."
"Je t'emmerde."
"Closer, but you're still trying to roll the r. And make sure you don't pronounce the d too hard. 'Je t'emmerde'."
"Je t'emmerde."
"Closer, but still..."
Teaching my friend to curse in French,
I stand on the beach
—the sand is littered with remorseless spiked seeds;
learn to cope with them—
and we watch
as white sheets,
held rigid by the racing wind,
propel katamarans through the water.
As the sky clears,
the sun shines brightly upon the joyrides
maneuvering across an infinite expanse of
blue
barely separated from the sky
by the vague line of the
horizon.
These friends I've known only for weeks,
and in only weeks we will again be apart.
Try hard enough, and you only need a moment
to cement a spontaneous bond.
Bare feet dig cozily into warm sand
as we compare the redness of our skin,
laugh our rears off at those
a little too close with the waves,
drop jaws at the audacity of a certain daredevil
(how does one manage to sheer in half a metal pole?).
One might think us eternal friends.
Racing across Neptune's domain,
stand and salute to these passerbies
whose evanescent presence
forges permanent memories
and stupendous stories.
Quell the worries of 3 months away,
and live to laugh another day.
Mission Bay Aquatic Center
San Diego, USA
SoCal Summertime
"Je t'emmerde."
"No, you're rolling the r. Don't roll the r."
"Je t'emmerde."
"Closer, but you're still trying to roll the r. And make sure you don't pronounce the d too hard. 'Je t'emmerde'."
"Je t'emmerde."
"Closer, but still..."
Teaching my friend to curse in French,
I stand on the beach
—the sand is littered with remorseless spiked seeds;
learn to cope with them—
and we watch
as white sheets,
held rigid by the racing wind,
propel katamarans through the water.
As the sky clears,
the sun shines brightly upon the joyrides
maneuvering across an infinite expanse of
blue
barely separated from the sky
by the vague line of the
horizon.
These friends I've known only for weeks,
and in only weeks we will again be apart.
Try hard enough, and you only need a moment
to cement a spontaneous bond.
Bare feet dig cozily into warm sand
as we compare the redness of our skin,
laugh our rears off at those
a little too close with the waves,
drop jaws at the audacity of a certain daredevil
(how does one manage to sheer in half a metal pole?).
One might think us eternal friends.
Racing across Neptune's domain,
stand and salute to these passerbies
whose evanescent presence
forges permanent memories
and stupendous stories.
Quell the worries of 3 months away,
and live to laugh another day.
Mission Bay Aquatic Center
San Diego, USA
SoCal Summertime