Piracy!

I should have known better. It was bound to happen, I guess, but I really thought it would be to someone else. I saw the odd looks when I just walked away without locking her up, you know, but what was there to lock her to? The sand? The water?

She was just gone when I got there Friday night, disappeared without a trace. There were three others still there that have been there all along. I loved that little dinghy. She was too small, too prone to getting punctured by the sharp rocks at the landing, and would absolutely refuse to track in a straight line when I was rowing her, but.......she was my first, and we had some fun and excitement together. I'll never forget the sight of her following us out of Angelfish Creek and into the Atlantic back in June....we were running for our lives from that evil squall, her painter grabbed hard to Reprieve's stern cleat, and every time I thought she was about to be swamped by the following waves she'd bounce right up and perch herself there on top of the wave. In my mind's eye I see her now, picture her like a little puppy, running hard, tennis ball in her mouth, trying to catch up.

So.....goddam scurvy dog pirates. Oughta feed 'em to the sharks or tourists if we find out who they are. One time before I had arrived at the landing to find her gone, but that just turned out to be kids staying at the motel next door had tried paddling around but gave up, apparently, and left her beached at a house down the way. I've asked around but nobody's seen her or has any idea who might have taken her.


I've been scouting Craig's list and the classifieds and the tackboards at the grocery store and bait shops to see if I can find another one, but no luck so far. If anyone out there in south Florida has a little dinghy friend that needs a good home, let me know, OK?

Feed the blog, bigdog......

Where does the time go, kids? It's already September and although I'm glad that it's football season and sailing time again it just doesn't seem right that this summer could have slipped away so quickly. I've slacked on the blog entries, obviously, but it seems like every time I've plopped my sorry ass down here at the keyboard lately my mind has been an absolute blank, and thanks to the burden of good role models I just cannot bring myself to post some lame-ass drivel just to be able to say I've kibbled the blog. I was complaining about this to a friend recently (who had just discovered that there is a bigdogblog) and of course she said "So, how do you explain the previous 70 entries here?" Good question. I'll, uhmmm, you know, get back to you real soon on that .......

But, nonetheless, a great summer it was all in all, and dadgum what is that itch oh hell here it comes I do feel the urge if not the obligation to just go ahead and start running downhill arms up head back start to let it out let it go put something down record all of the glorious sailing driving kissing sweating painting singing climbing cooking eating eating eating reading sleeping stealing looks out of the corner of my eye and apples from the end of the box adventures and heroic pursuits that happened to me and for me and everyone else I saw or didn't saw at Sibbyfest or Cranberry Lake or Vineyfig, Sunnyside, the doublwide or up in heaven on the bay and everyone up on the big rock candy mountain because the whole idea of this twisted blogation is to get it out there today right now damn hell what anyone thinks or even says about what I've done or what I've got to say or how I'm doing or saying any of it because it's not a matter of life or death and goddammit ain't nobody gonna starve or cry or have to stay out in the freezin' rain whether I do or don't bang this gibberish out or if I get divine inspiration from the Lord or the Muse or the youtube or wherever the angels speak from nowdays and stumble my way into saying something profound or crazy or both and bring love and joy to the Youth of Today that're all just out there right now, by Dog, you've seen'em I can tell by the look in you eye at this very moment, look around they're all searching for help and hope and happiness and if they don't wanna go to school tomorrow well then damn their hides bless their souls pass'em the biscuits and gravy and let's all of us just let them and us, yes US, all of us every last one just fall on into the old wooooooo-saaaahhhhhhhh and let it go let it go let it go, amen, ok?






Damn.

That feels better.

Gotta run.

shard

I don't know how it caught my eye
with the grey afternoon sun
low
and quiet
the river gliding slowly over my feet
beyond my gaze
one small black shape
in a river village of glistening stones

But somehow I turned
and knelt
and reached
through two inches of river
and into a thousand years of memory

This small piece of scooped clay, molded by hand
hardened by camp fire flame
once was part of a sturdy whole
holding water, and corn,
and the life blood
of family

Its weight and shape are comforting
and I'm surprised at the feeling
Like a favorite object
discovered in an unfamiliar place
not knowning until right now
it had ever been lost

Closing my eyes,
feeling the soft round edges in my hand
I see it then
as it was
a part of the whole
coming to life
long dead hands
in the cold wet dawn
probing the river dip by dip
for clay, and sand, and hope

And those hands....those lovely hands.....
lithe sinews pressing, pinching, shaping
sorting clay red from blue,
tempering the mix with sand, and moss
and instinct
quick fingers
brushing stray bits of wood and grass
from the perfecting form
rolled and stretched from the river

A caddoan bowl, I think
but only she knows for sure, now
and only she knows
why the deer, incised on the rim, lives there still today
or what story is told by the pattern, rolled across that damp red surface,
before it knew the fire

Standing in the river
my gaze lost beyond the bank
I wonder how many seasons this urn carried water
how many dry lips were quenched
by the little river inside

But the stillness breaks
children laughing bring me back to here
and now
I wonder how many seasons have passed
since a hand slipped, or a storm wind blew,
and this vessel scattered
shattered in the weeds and lost among the rocks

and how is it that now
this one piece,
this solitary shard
has come to lie exposed and alone among the riverbank pebbles
away from the bank
and the village
and the clay

And what has been lost
now that it is found?