Calypso Cruise

Naval Poet

"...You whom the wander-spirit loves
To lead by some forgotten clue
Forever vanishing beyond
Horizon brinks forever new;..."
-Bliss Carman, A Seamark

Pop Culture

"...then we moved into the city... ...I was covering so-called pop-culture for this really trashy online 
gossip broker and Jay was bartending in a club... ...so we were able to live in each other's world
at least schedule-wise, you know?... ...but that came to an abrupt end when Jay started gigging with
the Wrongsters and not long after that was when I started freelancing for the Wingnut..." 
-offroad artist

Many Salmon Moon

"...In the Secwepemc (Shuswap) language, the word for "September" (or September/October) is Pesqelqlelten or "Many Salmon Moon"...

This year, for the first time in over a decade, the Many Salmon Moon has returned to the land of the Shuswap in all its glory... ...From Oct. 2 through Oct. 24, an estimated eight million sockeye salmon will make their way back to spawn in Adams River in south central British Columbia... "

-offroad artist

Imminent Dawn - text from the chapter, "Piper at the Gates of Dawn" in Wind in the Willows

"...Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble head; and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while Nature, flushed with fulness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her breath for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper; saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growing daylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that were looking down on them humorously, while the bearded mouth broke into a half-smile at the corners;..."

Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Williows, 1908

Murmuring Moon

"...I cried when the moon was murmuring to the birds,

‘Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will,

I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words,

For the roads are unending and there is no place to my mind.’

The honey-pale moon lay low on the sleepy hill

And I fell asleep upon lonely Echtge of streams;

No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind,

The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams..."

-W.B. Yeats, The Withering of the Boughs