One afternoon I said to myself, “Why aren’t shores endless?” Do shores matter? do they? Sands, however hard they try, Will always be coarse. Now grainy is just the thing, To get me wondering if sand particles are gross. Swimming is, in its way, the exercise of water sport. Down, down, down into the darkness of the swimming, Gently it goes – the woolly-headed,...
Some Lashed Travel Your brow develops from north to north within the ultraviolet sorrow of the jugular! Because I love you, love, in the sky and next to the fire. When the night is full of sifted finger around pamphlets and acidulous muzzled hooves and the hairy mirrors and the droplets! At last give forth their lewd depth You enrich in the moonlight...
A waterfall in the afternoon, as though it had been painted by Georges Seurat. Seurat was a 19th Century painter who is best-known for his large painting, Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. He was the initiator of the movement known as Neo-Impressionism. Of course, he also had several other famous paintings that expressed his style. I’m a big fan of his 1889...
The tension is at its highest right before the sound of the gun, when the runner is in the set position, feet in the blocks and ready to spring forward at full speed. The adrenaline pumps through her body. She is ready to run. The Olympics comes to Rio in less than a month. Despite all the problems in Brazil–everything from politics to the...
I’ve always loved the romanticism of exploration. Although I know it would have been a difficult time period, I sometimes wish I had been living in exploration’s golden age of the 1500s-1600s. It would have been something to head off in a ship to sail the ocean and find new, uncharted lands. I think I would have made a great explorer. I’d love to...
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