"Sea-Fever
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by.
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face and a grey dawn breaking.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the seagulls crying.
I must down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over."
—John Masefield via Via Negativa
Poetry Discovered. (archive)
"The world the powerful want to build creeps closer every day: a world haunted by the crushing silence over the graves of those who dared to speak the truth, the deafening hush from the throats of collaborators, the death-rattle quiet of poisoned rivers, barren fields, ruined cities and barbed wire." —@babadookspinoza.bsky.social
United States as Wile E Coyote.
