The SunThe Sun
pants down around my legs,
shirt unbuttoned—
the stink of my sweat—
i walk with small steps,
shoes untied.
the sun is coming up.
(Published in Weekly Alibi, Vol. 7, No. 6, Feb. 11-17, 1998. Copyright 1998, 2023 by Tetman Callis.)
Day: September 16, 2023
Small Blue Poem #4Small Blue Poem #4
Snapshots
returned from the drugstore today—
Come see!
My angel,
Italian with a moustache and passion enough
for two—for ten! The whole town!
Her hand on my leg, my hand
on hers, then; Pink Baltic Hand,
meet Brown Adriatic Hand—shake.
Here, she sits at picnic table
and eats—a piece
of her chocolate birthday cake.
“Is it my chocolate birthday, then?”
See
how she holds the white plastic
fork poised
before her mouth.
See
how her breasts push against
her green silk blouse.
See
how her legs are
lost in shadow cast
by her flowered skirt.
(Published in Weekly Alibi, Vol. 7, No. 6, Feb. 11-17, 1998. Copyright 1998, 2023 by Tetman Callis.)
“Notwithstanding all that has been said about the beauty of a ship under full sail, there are very few who have ever seen a ship, literally, under all her sail. A ship coming in or going out of port, with her ordinary sails, and perhaps two of three studding-sails, is commonly said to be under full sail; but a ship never has all her sail upon her, except when she has a light, steady breeze, very nearly, but not quite, dead aft, and so regular that it can be trusted, and is likely to last for some time. Then, with all her sails, light and heavy, and studding-sails, on each side, alow and aloft, she is the most glorious moving object in the world. Such a sight, very few, even some who have been at sea a great deal, have ever beheld; for from the deck of your own vessel you cannot see her, as you would a separate object. One night, while we were in these tropics, I went out to the end of the flying-jib-boom, upon some duty, and, having finished it, turned round, and lay over the boom for a long time, admiring the beauty of the sight before me. Being so far out from the deck, I could look at the ship, as at a separate vessel;—and there rose up from the water, supported only by the small black hull, a pyramid of canvas, spreading out far beyond the hull, and towering up almost, as it seemed in the indistinct night air, to the clouds. The sea was as still as an inland lake; the light trade-wind was gently and steadily breathing from astern; the dark blue sky was studded with the tropical stars; there was no sound but the rippling of the water under the stem; and the sails were spread out, wide and high;— the two lower studding-sails stretching, on each side, far beyond the deck; the topmast studding-sails, like wings to the topsails; the top-gallant studding-sails spreading fearlessly out above them; still higher, the two royal studding-sails, looking like two kites flying from the same string; and, highest of all, the little skysail, the apex of the pyramid, seeming actually to touch the stars, and to be out of reach of human hand. So quiet, too, was the sea, and so steady the breeze, that if these sails had been sculptured marble, they could not have been more motionless. Not a ripple upon the surface of the canvas; not even a quivering of the extreme edges of the sail—so perfectly were they distended by the breeze. I was so lost in the sight, that I forgot the presence of the man who came out with me, until he said, (for he, too, rough old man-of-war’s-man as he was, had been gazing at the show,) half to himself, still looking at the marble sails—‘How quietly they do their work!’ ” – Richard Henry Dana, Two Years Before the Mast