When the still sea conspires an armor
(*an* armor? Really, Jim?)And her sullen and aborted
Currents breed tiny monsters
True sailing is DEAD
blah blah blah
This is one of those sargasso 'I hate my life' periods, and so as a counteractant I bring you....
Medieval Arabic Poetry from Spain! ( Collapse )ETA
: I remember someone trying to convince me, back in '68, that Horse Latitudes
was all about having sex with a condom on. The horses are sperm. I suppose it works.