After George Oppen
Oh! What comes on the wind?
Air, light, splash among the rocks.
The lighthouse is whitewash, schoolhouse red,
monument to light and wreckage.
The sea is clockwork for the world.
Its evanescing rings leave impressions on the sand.
Wind and light diminish. Fog rolls. Time stops. Dreams start:
white rocks stained red, tribal dance, long boned girls, flames and whirling flesh.