Talk Like A Pirate Day

Aye, sure’n it be Talk Like A Pirate Day once again! A day fer all manner o’ scallywags t’ let fly their “arr’s” an’ “aye’s” an’ such like. And of course causing the later question, why is all the rum gone?

Last year we had quite the list of drinks you can celebrate with. To that your fearless cap’n would cheerfully add the Dark and Stormy. In fact, odds are strong several new crewmates will be introduced to it this very evening.

If’n you’ll pardon me, the deck needs swabbing before it’s fit t’ receive visitors.

I moved among your fingers

Well, now.

The Raiment We Put On

Do you remember? We were in a room
With walls as warm as anybody’s breath,
And music wove us on its patterning loom,
The complicated loom of life and death.
Your hands moved over my face like small clouds.
(Rain fell into a river and sank, somewhere.)
I moved among your fingers, brushed by the small crowds
Of them, feeling myself known, everywhere,
And in that desperate country so far from here,
I heard you say my name over and over,
Your voice threading its way into my ear.
I will spend my days working to discover
The pattern and its meaning, what you meant,
What has been raveled and what has been rent.


(Kelly Cherry)

Stranger, here you will do well to tarry; here our highest good is pleasure.