https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-DZdwkfKxg&index=1&list=RDM-DZdwkfKxg
Deepest thanks to HG SANTTOS, who posted it.
Tuesday, March 6, 2018
Wednesday, January 31, 2018
VIEW OF THE MISSISSIPPI FROM FORT HILL AT THE VICKSBURG BATTLEFIELD NATIONAL PARK AND CEMETERY
From the wide,
meandering drive
you
look away, beyond the lines
of
white anonymous markers,
down
to where the barges
are
pushing past the piers,
as slowly as the hour hand of a clock,
while
tiny speedboats whine
as they skip up and down
like
mosquitoes, skimming
the water
to
better their times.
The
digital tour guide at Fort Hill
makes
it a point to say
that
the River isn’t what you see
—“the
River” around here
always
means the Mississippi—
but
the Yazoo Diversion Canal,
an
artificial waterway
created
by the Army Corps of Engineers
after
the River slid away
and
left Vicksburg behind.
The
real Mississippi winds,
like
a snake uncoiling, on the other side
of
the shifting sandbars and temporary islands
that
lie in the distance, looking like solid ground
crowded
with undergrowth, cottonwood, willow, and pine.
Several
hours farther down,
at
New Roads in the Parish of Pointe Coupée,
the
River once twisted itself out this way.
On
the farther, lower side
they
made the old bed into a resort,
a
playground for aquatic sports,
called
False River Lake.
They
have sail-boating and water-skiing there,
and
trolling and fishing from the shore,
lined
now with substantial real estate.
It
all sounds fairly dull and safe,
and
perhaps it is.
Perhaps
there’s a point to be made
for placidity, though: There are some who say,
with mandarin politesse,
“May
you live in interesting times,”
—when
they don’t mean to bless.
But
more than once the River has
struck
at a town:
of
that rip-roaring sinful place,
Natchez-under-the-Hill,
there
isn’t much left now;
and
at Grand Gulf,
half
an hour south of here,
fifty-six
blocks of busy, sleepy people
sloughed
off into the water
bit
by bit, without a sound.
Only
a few minutes farther away,
antique
and beautiful,
the
clock-faced steeples of Port Gibson wait,
set
back decorously not-too-near
the
soft slopes of the Little Bayou Pierre,
a
minor tributary that everyone there
calls
“By a Pier.”
They
watch the town’s two bridges—
the
skeletal old one, mostly sucked down
in
the great storm of ’Fifty-Four,
and
the squat, heavy new one, that brute mass and weight
have
held in place so far.
_______________________________________________________________
https://mississippiriver.natgeotourism.com/content /historic-downtown-vicksburgmspa915737884acb72d3
Friday, November 17, 2017
GOD BLESS AUSTRALIA
... THE SEXIEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD
"What are you looking at?"
Tuesday, September 5, 2017
ÉSTO ES PARA TODOS
Para
todos los iberos,
siempre
en nuestros corazones,
siempre
en nuestras oraciones.
Sunday, June 25, 2017
OUT OF THE SIXTIES
Look! Here come the Flower Children,
beads and braids and tie-dyed
feathers,
hippie happie demonstrators
marching against the world’s Darth
Vaders,
laughing and singing and loving each
other,
blithe go-fors for somebody’s alternate
kingdom,
marching, dancing, turn up the speakers,
into the rainbow, into the visions,
the sacred weed and the magic mushroom,
Shangri-La, Woodstock, Walden, Eden,
the compound ruled by the loving leader,
the sex and the sweats and the screams
of laughter,
and into the night of the trussed
pigslaughter,
the barren tears, the begging and
pleading,
the belly ripped open, a bloody melon,
wasting, wasting, all fall down
—Trust me, trust always, and only, the
young.
_____________________________________
Photo from http://inspirement.tumblr.com/post19730831916/
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