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#tiller
~ *words given life's first breath by this comment from SE Reimer   "thy tiller has found a storied port"* ~~ captain of a city street ferry, upon the choppy holy waters of scarlet fevered spotted gum stained christened concrete streets daylight guided by the starlight of quartz sparklers sidewalk embedded, resurrecting, overwhelming, the grayness of men's mortared materialism, these textured bright city lights, from murk morn steam-pipe risen, signposts of a city boys life, navigation tools on his steerage cruises 'tis only my poor torso I captain, my bus driving days retired, single masted, obedient to the sun's paths plotted on a personalized AAA TripTik,^ my cargo, my tiring physique, the refined mettle product of a sixty five year too short voyage of deep diving mining defining, and for surety, water divining city walking life driving, debtor-in-possession of a city infection of perpetual motion sickness enabled inability for standing stilled, lane weaving, people receiving and perceiving as buoyed obstacle objects to be passed by in a higher lane of shaken and stirred city waterways muscle's squeak in sonnet speak Why speed thy errant boots upon lanes of wandering men, is there not time enough, words suffice, in history's future present unlived long life, to recompense all your recorded stanzas, mariner's tales and wrote recitations of seafaring voices? sea nat run. sea nat go. dodging tween his fellow citified citizens and the puzzled and puzzling drowning tourists, sea nat write his unsecreted visions, sailing from street to shining street poetry this glorious grime, this delicious dirt, stuff of my blood, genes of my children's children inheritance, of thee I sing, in thee I revel, of thee I am composed when my decomposing time scheduled arrival lately comes on time, bury me in its cemetery of memories, within the soft earth of a watery grave that the jackhammers drill bit paddles can uncover, in rough canvas toss my worn smooth failed frame overboard, so I may become but one more fable in your fabulous liquefying cement oceans ~~~ 3:53 am 5/18/16 nyc ^ http://pearlsoftravelwisdom.boardingarea.com/2014/01/remember-triptix/
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Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
captain of a street ferry! "thy tiller has found a storied port"
~ *words given life's first breath by this comment from SE Reimer   "thy tiller has found a storied port"* ~~ captain of a city street ferry, upon the choppy holy waters of scarlet fevered spotted gum stained christened concrete streets daylight guided by the starlight of quartz sparklers sidewalk embedded, resurrecting, overwhelming, the grayness of men's mortared materialism, these textured bright city lights, from murk morn steam-pipe risen, signposts of a city boys life, navigation tools on his steerage cruises 'tis only my poor torso I captain, my bus driving days retired, single masted, obedient to the sun's paths plotted on a personalized AAA TripTik,^ my cargo, my tiring physique, the refined mettle product of a sixty five year too short voyage of deep diving mining defining, and for surety, water divining city walking life driving, debtor-in-possession of a city infection of perpetual motion sickness enabled inability for standing stilled, lane weaving, people receiving and perceiving as buoyed obstacle objects to be passed by in a higher lane of shaken and stirred city waterways muscle's squeak in sonnet speak Why speed thy errant boots upon lanes of wandering men, is there not time enough, words suffice, in history's future present unlived long life, to recompense all your recorded stanzas, mariner's tales and wrote recitations of seafaring voices? sea nat run. sea nat go. dodging tween his fellow citified citizens and the puzzled and puzzling drowning tourists, sea nat write his unsecreted visions, sailing from street to shining street poetry this glorious grime, this delicious dirt, stuff of my blood, genes of my children's children inheritance, of thee I sing, in thee I revel, of thee I am composed when my decomposing time scheduled arrival lately comes on time, bury me in its cemetery of memories, within the soft earth of a watery grave that the jackhammers drill bit paddles can uncover, in rough canvas toss my worn smooth failed frame overboard, so I may become but one more fable in your fabulous liquefying cement oceans ~~~ 3:53 am 5/18/16 nyc ^ http://pearlsoftravelwisdom.boardingarea.com/2014/01/remember-triptix/
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