368. What about your other poem, "Fort Point"?



It's true I only have a poem or two as yet. I burnt a large lot that I
wrote in 1991, god knows why, but managed to save a mountain of handwritten
journal–nearly pure garbage.



Fort Point

I saw the color of your eyes in waves

That crushed, pressing, pulling themselves along

The concrete block that holds the south

Of Golden Gate Bridge up.

I wondered, was this iris-cycle of thought and image

Made flesh in foam that never had a shape before,

A starfish clinging to a weedy rock,

In bands of gray and jade and chalk

That faced an orange-red wall of sun,

Or in a freighter of the Cho Yang fleet–

One hundred fifty stackers above the hull,

A rusting, quiet, sliding behemoth

Carrying the work of ten thousand hands

To their berth in heaven?



So. I can print this, write more, recommend Keats, and a whole lot else.
Antique poesy.


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