Collecting
i stumbled over broken shell conglomerates today,
my feet sticking in the mud-slim-sediment
left by an ebbing tide.
my eyes peering over natural
for unnatural deposits,
the kind that prove the ancient city ancient.
disregarding coke cans, beer bottles,
polaroid packs,
i collected nine bits of china,
their age spanning three cenuries.
climbing back to the high water mark, i
laid them on the cold carved granite
of the sea wall,
making them appear as wares
to be sold to the 17 people
who passed my perch,
a fraction of those who come to see
and photograph the streets
where once walked
those who once ate
from this china.
from my sea-wall-seat I watched two trawlers
with begging seagull escort
slip through the inlet
. . . pause . . .
then charge the bridge of lions,
its bascules yielding with a rusty
creaky yawn.
the southeast wind tangled my hair
and the setting sun pushed faint heat
against my back.
one by one I dropped the china bits
into tidal slim,
pocketing one to sit on my desk,
an ash tray.
Brief Case Poems (1973-1979)