I really want a Joe Greenley boat to hang in our vaulted ceiling so I can admire from the couch
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Surely the man who drags you around the world will get you one.
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@canoeswithduckheads , I don’t know if you know this or not but @darkstar was quoting Dylan before moving in on your space…
Snuck some Rush in there too for those keeping track at home
They look pretty good from here!
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No, he won’t.
Sunset smells of dinner
Women are calling me to end my tales
But perhaps I’ll see you the next quiet place
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CSNYE (…& Young & Eliot)
Or is it NYSEC (New York Stock Exchange Crashes)?
Or is it ENYSC (Excellent New York Stock Canoe)?
(with a wee tad of guitar and banjo hillbilly elegiac assistance)
Sunset smells of crawfish
and wet hunting dogs
And the women no longer call me
for they’re always comin’ and go’n
talkin’ 'bout some Michelangelo
not me
can you even see through the yellow fog
over there along the lee shore
where shells and ragged claws lie scattered
in my sins turning tide
(and stomachs)
to spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways
in evil wind upon the water
on this epic odyssey
of Homer (with Jethro’s)
portions pro or con
of Turtles, Catfish and Frogs
With apologies to darkstar, David, Graham, Thomas the Stern one (although I think Andrew Lloyd Weber owes you and the entire feline community a greater apology than mine), and Homer & Jethro.
Well mjac, I saw it, although what “it” is exactly seems to have splashed down in some grey area of streaming polluted conscience.
Ya see?
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Thanks for the kind lookout. Although someone once informed me (back in the .net days) that I was more of a Poet Lariat than Laureate, being I was more likely to senselessly rope someone in, making them senseless as I 'steered" them towards the aspirin bottle corral, or bathroom medicine cabinet. Why, some said they were even prone to drinking from the liquor cabinet trough (or hemlock cup) upon attempted digestion of my fodder.
Guess that makes me sort of the Anti-Baxter Black, or Cowboy Poet Laureate from Hell? I’m just a doodlin’ ‘n canoodlin’ prose prone to Prozac kinda guy.
Oh! And if that ain’t a pretty picture!
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It is what you do. What is what you do is not important…
Betty said she prayed today…
I stake no claims other than the freedom to offer connections as they occur
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Down by the riverside.
A fawn hides.
The Owl watches
The cottonmouth turns away.
The brown water snakes merge genes.
And the warbler sings.
As silent canoe catches memories.
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Awesome… thanks for sharing your thoughts and pics!
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The photos were taken in Congaree National Park on Cedar Creek except for the Prothonotary Warbler which was taken while paddling the Saluda River. However, we did see them the same day we paddled Cedar Creek when I took the other photos. My friend Frank took the photo of me in my solo canoe. We saw a blue heron, the fawn, the owl, multiple warblers, 7 cottonmouth moccasins, and 18 brown water snakes which love to stay in branches over the water. They are the ones that sometimes drop into boats and seem to encourage the occupants to consider a swim. That is unless you know they are harmless. It was just one of those days the world seemed to come alive.
This is one of my favorite photos of Frank on Cedar Creek.
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And Frank is framed
with snakey limbs.
Some shudder/shutter,
Frank just grins.
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