The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me,
I tuck’d my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time;
You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.
Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
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Published by Marty Luster
I'm Marty Luster, a retired attorney and politician. In 2010 my wife, mother-in-law, dog and I relocated from Central NY to Gloucester. I hope my photographs and poetry(?) reflect my love for this place and her people.
My picture-poem posts can be seen at http://matchedpairs.wordpress.com and selected black and white images can be found at http://slicesoflifeimages.wordpress.com
View all posts by Marty Luster
Good Morning Gloucester 
Love Little river
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Very nice Marty! Nothing like fresh steamers, chowder, or fried belly on true grit! My cousin did a bunch of clamming in early 70’s and I did with other’s1960’s. Clam rake and dressed for success 🙂 Dave & Kim 🙂
Thought you may like this one Marty?
http://www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/news/nation/2016/03/181_199439.html
Jeong Ho-seung’s poem (29)
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음성듣기 The Sea’s Saints
Translated by Brother Anthony and Susan Hwang
Now I realize: the dried fish I tore apart
to accompany my drinks is mummified pollock;
the Andong salt mackerel I’ve so far enjoyed,
and the crispy dried anchovies are
mummified mackerel, mummified anchovies.
While I’ve been rushing on through life,
unable to distinguish money and men,
I could not see the sea thrown up by anchovies,
nor hear the waves vomited up by mackerels.
Now I realize: the reason why there are
no more saints emerging among men
is that those are the sea’s very saints.
Just as the bodies of Catholic saints are sometimes found to have remained intact after death and are enshrined visibly in churches as expressions of the holiness they embodied while alive, so the dried and preserved bodies of dead fish communicate the spirit of the sea.
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