ANTHEM FOR DOOMED YOUTH

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

~WILFRED OWEN
September - October, 1917

this is me in BIG SUR...the most splendidly beauhumphimus place on earth!!!









this ime and my dear friend jables on a boat ride in TURKS and CAICOS! it was a bumpy ride but we weathered the storm!!!

more crisp ocean...


the pool that disappeared into the ocean

my native friend....

my friend Quacker sunning on the beach

NEI (not easily impressed) not impressed by the splendid redwoods...

NEI seasick...

Quacker in the woods of Big Sur...